State of Decay: Bury Me
by BabiesAteMyDingo
Summary: Maya is faced with a problem of a somewhat delicate nature. With her group always looking to her to save them but unable to keep her safe in return, Maya turns to an unlikely source; the Wilkersons. One Wilkerson in particular. But Maya has never really been the damsel in distress type, and she may be in over her head. Fic loosely inspired by an on-going playthrough. Maya/Mickey
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:** Okay so I started a new playthrough of SOD and decided to just play as Maya. I started making up a back story and then...this happened. I'm only publishing this because there are so few fanfics of SOD to begin with and to keep me motivated to keep writing lol. But I'm just doing this for fun, no other reason! This fic will have **pregnancy, ****swearing**, **graphic ****sex**, **gore**,** violence**, **attempted non-con**, and other potentially triggering themes. Hey, it's the zombie apocalypse! But it's mainly a **romance fic,** so ye be warned. It sort of loosely follows what happened in my playthrough, so some game spoilers. But for the majority I am making a tonne of shit up. A TONNE. I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING. I just like playing with stuff. All survivor names are ones I came across in the game. Maya/Mickey pairing.

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Maya Torres gazed despondently down at the group of zombies clustered at the base of the granary where she was perched. They were so badly decomposed she couldn't tell if they were male or female, all that was left of the people they once were was the tattered remains of shirts and uniforms. A mechanic, a police officer and a waitress might have been what they were in life, but in death they were just zombs, hungry for Maya shaped meat.

She debated firing at a few but knew they'd lose interest shortly and wander off; it was wiser to save what bullets she had for when she needed them.

It had been three weeks since she had joined up with Marcus and Ed, and found out about the end of the world. Since then Maya had helped build up a community of eighteen survivors, all holed up in an old farmhouse they had fortified with lumber and spare parts. Ten women, eight men. It had been Maya's idea to move to the farm, reasoning that keeping away from the town's infestations would be wiser. She had kept them safe, teaching many of the survivors how to shoot with what guns they had, how to fight hand to hand and survive in the new harsh world.

The army had all bugged out. Last she had spoken to Sgt. Tan, he was coughing up black goo and raving about leaving the valley. She had no doubt that the man was dead now, and she spared a brief thought of grief for him. He'd been an alright guy, and his military knowledge would have been useful.

But Maya knew leaving the valley wasn't the answer to their problems. If a place like Turnbull county was hit this bad, then it would be even worse in the populated cities.

Maya frowned, swinging her legs. The wood beneath her creaked, but the zombies didn't care, already beginning to lose interest and shuffle away. Her rifle was resting across her knees, the same rifle Colton had given her as a Christmas present last year. It had served her well, though it hadn't been enough to save the man himself.

No, they were in this for the long haul. Months, years maybe, who knew. She had done well so far but it was time to start looking to the future, to start planning what she was going to do. Maya was a survivor above everything else, but soon she'd have something else to worry about.

Her period was late.

She'd always been like clockwork, to the point of the boys in her squad using her monthly cycles like a calendar. Now she was out of sync, and while some of that could be blamed on the whole apocalypse thing, Maya knew better.

Her knuckles turned white where they gripped the rifle. She just hadn't been careful enough. The hunting trip up to Turnbull county had been a spontaneous one; Colton and Strand had wooed her over with promises of a whole two weeks with nothing but the fresh air, deer and lazing around a lake. Like a fool she had let herself be drawn in by their twin smiles, and now look at the mess she was in.

Her relationship with the two had been anything but conventional. A ménage à trois they probably called it in polite circles, but whatever, it had worked for them. But then Colton and Strand had died up there by that lake, and Maya was left to fend on her own.

"God, you guys must be laughing your asses off wherever you are," she muttered, casting a glance at the blue sky. The sun beat down on her, making sweat prickle along her brow. "Well ha-fucking-ha, you assholes."

In a few months she'd be a liability instead of an asset, and the group had precious few of those to begin with. In the past week alone Maya had been called on to get her fellow survivors out of all sorts of scrapes, and those were the ones who actually had some sort of shooting experience. None of them would be able to protect her and a child, let alone a newborn who would be squalling night and day, attracting all sorts of freaks. They were good people, but weak. Maya had been carrying them all, and already she was feeling the strain. What would it be like in a few months when her belly swelled and her back started to ache? Sure, the men would try and help, but they weren't like her, weren't trained in the art of war and survival.

As much as she wanted to believe in her group, she knew deep down that she couldn't trust them. Not with something as huge as this.

That left her with few options. She could leave the group, try and survive on her own holed up somewhere and hope not to draw any attention to herself. It was a terrible idea, and one she had dismissed as soon as she thought of it. She cared for the group, and wanted to still help them, she just needed to ensure that she and the baby were protected somehow, that if things went to shit and the group was attacked, that there was a way out.

They could try leaving the valley, but that didn't appeal either. Colton and Strand had died in this godforsaken place and call her sentimental but she wanted to stay, to keep a piece of them alive however she could. Besides, who was to say that the outside world was any better? From what Maya could see, this was the world now. The army had come, and failed. The Law had tried to prevail, and it had failed too. The Judge was long dead, and Carl, the nice sheriff Maya had helped time and time again, torn to pieces alongside her. _Nice_ didn't cut it in this world. Nice got you killed.

Which brought her back to the group. Of the men, only Marcus had any real idea of what he was doing, and though a good friend, Maya couldn't see him as father material. He'd pity her; give sympathy and kind words where she needed action, hot steel and live rounds. The women would rally to her sure, but she faced the same problem. When she got to be big and round, unable to run from zombs and fire a weapon, could she trust them to watch her back? What if one of those big fat ones got in and charged? Would anyone be at her back to put it down when she couldn't?

Probably not.

Maya gazed out across the plains, inadvertently looking in the direction of option number three, the one she had been rolling around her head since coming to the outpost that morning, evaluating it from all possible angles and still coming up frustratingly blank.

The Wilkersons.

She sighed, shocked she was even still considering it. Maya had kept on their good side, running some interference for them that she judged to still be morally sound. She didn't ask questions about what they were doing, just turned a blind eye and did what they asked within reason. Everyone had to survive somehow, and Maya had done her fair share of distasteful things to keep her own group going.

She thought briefly of Alan, of how she had taken him out to an empty field and put a bullet in the back of his head. All over a cough. No-one had wept over him, but it was still murder.

Yeah, she had done some shit too. She couldn't exactly throw stones.

The Wilkersons were the real power in the valley. As the police and army failed, they stayed up there in their crumbling fortress, and they persevered. It had made sense to stay on their good side, though Lily didn't approve and often told Maya so, voice disapproving like a mother's over the radio. But she was still just a kid, who saw the world in clear black and white, while Maya saw it in shades of grey.

Any new survivors Maya came across spoke of the Wilkersons with awed and frightened whispers, and Maya had seen first-hand how the Wilkersons ran off any rival gangs hoping to move in on the territory. Three weeks may not seem like that long, but in this new world it was like a lifetime, and the Wilkersons were settling in for the long haul. Everyone else could either join them, or die.

So far the only other group to rival their survival rate and size was Maya's, and that was by busting her ass 24/7 to keep them all alive.

She wouldn't exactly say the brothers were friendly with her, but they weren't unfriendly either. She had been the one to put the youngest Wilkerson out of his misery so he wouldn't reanimate, had been the one to defend their hideout when one of the huge ones tried to get in. They owed her respect at least, and they gave it begrudgingly, and it was better than being on their hit list.

Mickey had even complimented her shooting a few times, though she wasn't sure 'Tex' was a good nickname or not. Mickey was the oldest, and probably the more explosive. He had a mouth on him, and a temper, but beyond their first distrustful meeting, Maya had never really seen any evidence of it. She had a feeling he was more bark than bite, but it worked for him.

Job Wilkerson was the one that unsettled her. He was educated and soft spoken, even friendly-ish when she first met him, but since then she had seen a different side to him. Where Mickey was considered the brawn, Job was the brains. It was him who had planned out the shakedowns on fellow survivors coming through, Maya knew. The only soft side she'd seen to Job had been when Eli died, and even that wasn't much.

The Wilkersons were thugs, no two ways about it. But they got shit done. They persevered where others didn't, and Maya could respect that. Could admire it even, though she didn't think she could ever become as ruthless as they were. At the end of day Maya would help anyone she could, no matter the things she had to do.

But Job Wilkerson scared the crap out of her. She had done a small job for the Wilkersons only days ago, escorting a group of three survivors to meet them at a secluded location. Job had sent her away like some sort of obedient pet, and when she returned later to check on things, she'd found three dead bodies where three people used to be.

Maya had stared at the corpses a long time, before turning and getting into her truck and driving away. This was the world they lived in now, there was no use trying to hide from it. Lily spoke about taking the Wilkersons on, to stop the shakedowns, but that was a fool's dream. If they wanted to keep their peaceful part of Turnbull, then they had to play along with the powers that be, even if that meant doing distasteful things.

With new life stirring inside her, Maya needed the Wilkersons more than ever. She needed their protection, as well as the hefty weight of their reputation behind her own name. So far none of the other enclaves had offered her group much trouble, but it was only a matter of time. Eventually supplies would begin to run out, and then Maya knew things would go to hell.

Desperate people did desperate things. But even desperate people thought twice about tangling with the Wilkersons.

If she was going to make it through this, as well was the fetus cooling it's heels in her belly, she was going to need the hillbilly brothers. And the only way she could see her getting them on her side was convincing one that the baby was theirs.

She was going to have to seduce one of them.

Maya shuddered at the thought, rubbing her arms. Job would be her smartest bet, he was the scheming one, the one who probably wielded the true power. But try as she might, Maya just couldn't bring herself to go through with it. Every time she tried to picture how the scenario might go, she saw three dead faces staring back at her accusingly as Job told her in a soft voice to get, like a master to his dog.

She could do a lot of things, but Job wasn't one of them. And that left her only one remaining Wilkerson.

She didn't know much about him, admittedly. The few survivors she had spoken to told her about how though Job got Mickey to deal out some beatings, Mickey was also the one who often stopped them before they went too far. He had a temper, liked shooting things, but Maya remembered the way grief had choked him as she had turned her rifle on his dead brother that proved he was human.

He even reminded her a bit of Colton, though taller. For a moonshine swigging hillbilly Mickey Wilkerson at least had all his teeth, and she couldn't argue with his shooting skills; he was the best shot in the whole valley. She remembered him picking off zombies as they tried to hold the downstairs of the Barrett house, whooping like a kid at a carnival every time he nailed one. He never missed a head shot.

Maya groaned, hanging her head in her hands. She couldn't believe she was still contemplating it but out of all the ideas she'd thought of, this was the most sensible. It was cold and calculated, but then again that was what she had to do these days. If she could convince everyone that she was carrying _Mickey's _baby…

She just might live long enough to give birth.

Maya frowned. Of course that meant she'd have to…_seduce _him. And soon.

"What a fucking mess," she muttered again, smoothing a hand down her still flat belly. She had contemplated telling Lily but decided against it almost immediately. She loved the girl, but Lily was a blabbermouth, and lives depended on this going according to plan. If the Wilkersons found out she'd been lying about everything…

No, she'd have to play this close to the chest, with as few people aware of the truth as possible. In fact, no-one could know. Not even Doc Hanson, though she was sure he'd suss out that the timing would be wrong eventually. Still, what was a couple of weeks difference? With no sonograms to see development, they couldn't prove how far along she was or wasn't.

The group wouldn't take it well though. Marcus especially, who had become a close friend. She knew there were those in the group who had set their sights on her as well, Gage, Patrick, Raul, even Marcus himself had made a few friendly passes. There would be many a hurt pride at the thought of her passing them all over for a Wilkerson.

And what if they didn't let her stay with the group? What if the Wilkersons dragged her away and treated her like some broodmare to be protected until she gave birth? She had to be prepared for that, but she knew that even if that happened, she'd do it. If it meant keeping the baby and herself safe, she'd do a hell of a lot.

Like sleep with a Wilkerson in the first place.

Maya peered between the wooden slats, seeing that the zombies had finally lost interest. That was her cue to leave.

She was done thinking. She had planned, mulled, and talked herself in and out of a dozen scenarios. Truth was, Colton and Strand were gone, and she was stuck with a baby she couldn't protect. Either she did something now, or she did nothing at all, and possibly doomed herself and the baby to an early grave.

Maya Torres didn't take life lying down. Never had. Back in the real world she had been just another grunt in uniform but in this world, she was the fiercest bitch in this town, and that meant she needed the fiercest dog at her side.

Mickey Wilkerson was going to be the father of her baby.

"God help us all," she muttered, getting to her feet. Slinging the rifle over her shoulder she swung herself down onto the ladder, checking that all her zombie admirers had truly left, leaving only their stench behind. She needed to get back to the farmhouse, grab some supplies, and then somehow get herself over to the Wilkerson place _tonight_, all without arousing too much suspicion from her fellow group members.

"Easy peasy," she said out-loud, climbing into her beaten up truck and shifting it into gear. "And to think I thought this might be _hard._"


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: **Graphic (unprotected) sex this chapter! *cackles like a maniac from under my rock*

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Even Maya had to admit, the farmhouse had really come into its own in the past few days. Thanks to the lumber she had hauled in with Marcus, a new greenhouse had been built, ensuring they had a steady supply of fresh food. The workshop meant they could repair weapons and cars, and the new infirmary kept them healthy and disease free. The defenses were holding so far, and overall, Maya felt proud of what they had accomplished.

If only she could cling to some of that pride now. Maya stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror, running her fingers self-consciously through her still damp hair. Out in the field she always had it up in a severe bun, but tonight, she needed to look anything but a soldier. She kind of hated having her hair down, it always made her feel so…womanly. Not a bad thing in the real world, but anything feminine was preyed upon by her fellow soldiers in the barracks, and after a while Maya had gotten to hate her natural beauty.

Until Colton and Strand, but she couldn't think about that now.

Her dark hair curled around her collarbone, slightly wavy from the wash she had given it, and teamed with her big brown eyes framed by long dark lashes, she thought she looked more like a doe lost in the woods than a woman. Something delicate to be protected.

She snorted, reaching for her pack. Hopefully that was something Mickey was into. In her pack she found an old tube of mascara and lib gloss that she took out and carefully applied, nearly poking herself in the eye with the mascara. She smacked her lips a few times, hating the greasy feel of the gloss, but even she had to admit it made her lips look plumper.

Throwing the makeup back into her pack, she paused, catching sight of the small brown paper bag she had tucked at the bottom. Inside was the positive pregnancy test she had taken earlier that day, squatting in the back of the pharmacy like some crazy person. She'd dispose of it somewhere far away from the farmhouse eventually, but for now it was a physical reminder that there were things she needed to do. She pushed it further down, hiding it beneath what little belongings she carried with her.

Pulling on her usual tight leggings and boots, she cast around for something more attractive to wear as a top. She only had two bras and both were grey and dingy, much to her disgust. Hardly seductive. Rummaging further into the basket of communal clothing she came up with a black sports bra; worn under her coat she could pass it off as a flimsy crop top. She pulled it on, adjusting herself for a moment and checked the mirror again. Great, she looked more like she was going out for a jog than working on seducing someone.

Sighing, she grabbed her jacket, the beige colored leather familiar against her skin as she zipped it up.

She checked her reflection one last time in the mirror. Grabbing a small tube of toothpaste, she poured a little amount of the minty paste onto her finger, scrubbing at her teeth quickly.

Finally satisfied, Maya put her things away, throwing a bra and a change of clothes in her pack and slinging it over her shoulder. It was a miracle she hadn't been interrupted while getting changed in the bedroom, and she wasn't going to waste the opportunity to make a quiet get away.

Stepping out into the cool night air, she spotted Gage leaning against the side of the house. The mechanic straightened as he saw her, shoving his hands into his jean pockets.

"Hey, Maya," he said haltingly. Maya sighed silently, but returned his smile. Gage wasn't much older than her, dark-haired and relatively good looking, he had established himself in the group easily. He had been a grease monkey before, and kept their battered cars running. He was a bit of a sleaze at times, but he a was a good guy overall.

"Alright there, Gage?"

"Yeah, yeah."

He fell into step with her as she rounded the side of the house, the greenhouse looming on their right.

"You, uh…you like nice," Gage said haltingly, and Maya felt a brief bang of sympathy for the guy.

"Thanks Gage. A girl likes to feel pretty now and then while she kicks zombie ass."

"You heading out? I can come with you if you need some company."

Maya winced at the eagerness in his voice. "Just a supply run. And thanks, but you know I do better solo."

"Oh, sure," Gage rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Hey listen, I wanted to thank you for getting me out of that jam the other day. I woulda been dead if you hadn't shown up."

_Yes you would have, _Maya thought, slightly bitterly. _Yet another ass I had to save._

It wasn't very fair of her, but after saving person after person, Maya got irritable every time she got a call to go bail someone out. For once she wanted someone to just save _themselves._

"Don't worry about it, Gage. We look out for each other."

"Yeah," the mechanic smiled at her again, and Maya couldn't help but feel like she had kicked a puppy into a ditch. "Well you be careful out there."

Maya nodded, giving Lily a wave through the window as she passed. Lily smiled back and mouthed good luck through the window as Maya unlatched the gate.

_If only you knew, _Maya thought, and felt the absurd urge to laugh as she threw her bag into the back her pickup. Sliding into the driver's seat, she turned the keys and the truck sputtered to life beneath her. Switching on the lights, she rolled down the window to feel the night breeze on her face.

"Alright. Let's get this show on the road," she muttered, putting the truck in gear and rolling out from the farmhouse.

She cut across the fields, mowing over a few zombs that got in her way. They thudded against the bonnet, congealed black blood splattering the windscreen. With practiced ease Maya flicked the window wipers on, smearing the foul goop until she could see again.

The closest enclave of survivors were still there she was happy to see, and they peered out the window of the dilapidated house as she passed. Maya waved, but they didn't return it. She didn't blame them, it was that group Maya had saved from the Wilkersons only a week before. They were mistrustful and suspicious of everyone, probably with good reason.

Maya had seen the mess the Wilkersons had left that poor man in. Samuel wasn't it? Maya had given him a few cases of ammo to pay the Wilkersons back, probably saving the man's hide.

"And that's why you're doing this," Maya said out loud, turning onto the main road. "Because you want to be on the _other _side of the fist."

The roads were pretty clear, and resting her arm on the window, Maya could enjoy the chill of the night breeze as it rustled her hair. She could still smell the heat of the day in the air, as well as the constant presence of decay. The dark buildings of the town passed her by, all the survivors holed up for the night and only the zombs roaming the streets. Maya was known for doing night runs, so her presence on the streets wouldn't be thought too odd by any observers.

The dirt road up to the Barrett house was also devoid of any hoards which was a small blessing. Usually they liked to gather there, and every time Maya had come up before, she had spent hours afterwards cleaning rotten flesh and brain matter out of her truck grill. She could just try not hitting them but she never could resist.

The squelches were just so damn satisfying.

A mile or so away, she could see the house up on the hill, fires lit in the fields around it. It was no secret that in the evenings the Wilkerson posse tended to get drunk on moonshine and do whatever it was hillbillies do; firing their guns into the sky or something, she didn't know. But as she neared she picked up the unmistakable strains of music through her open window, and realized she couldn't have timed this visit any better; it seemed the Wilkersons were having themselves a hoedown.

She pulled her truck to the side of the road a little ways away, turning the engine off and just sitting in the quiet gathering her thoughts.

"Alright Torres, get it together."

Leaving her pack in the car, Maya's combat boots were noiseless against the grass and dirt, and none of the drunks seemed to notice her approach. She kept her rifle slung across her shoulder, and her axe at her hip. The weapons hardly ever left her, and tonight would be no exception. A big bonfire had been lit out front of the house, and several men were clustered around it, swigging from bottles and roaring with laughter. Someone had hooked up a battery powered boom box on the rotting railing, and a woman missing most of her front teeth was trying to sway seductively in time for her drunken audience. A few other women wove between the men, looking for a protector for the evening in exchange for a drunken fumble.

_Exactly what I'm doing._

Maya sighed, and scanning the revelers, she recognized some of the goons. She had run into them now and then out in the field and some of them had come to the farmhouse to inform her of jobs that needed doing.

No Wilkersons though.

She frowned, keeping to the shadows as she assessed the situation. Maybe Job and Mickey were off on a job, and left the men to celebrate amongst themselves. She'd have to come back another ni-

The front door banged open, and Mickey came strolling out, the necks of several bottles of moonshine clutched between his fingers. The men bellowed as they saw him, all raising their own bottles and glasses, and Mickey grinned, the firelight dancing across his face.

Maya almost had a change of heart then and there. In the firelight he looked feral, and as Job prowled out from the shadows behind his brother, Maya felt like she was looking at two predators, not men.

"To Job!" Mickey yelled over the din, and dimly Maya snapped herself out of her panicked stupor. "For leadin' us all to glory or some shit."

The men laughed at that, and scowling, Job grabbed a bottle from his brother's outstretched hand.

"Fuck you, Mickey."

"Hey! I was givin' you a compliment."

Job raised the bottle. "To the new world! May all its riches be ours, boys."

The men roared again, before falling silent, all chugging at once. Job finished his first, and beckoned towards the toothless woman as the music changed track.

"Now let's get this party started!" he whooped, grabbing the woman around the waist.

Maya lost sight of them as the men all hollered, moving around the fire to grab more drink. She craned her head further out of the bush and caught a glimpse of Mickey jumping down from the railing, swigging from a bottle as he shouldered his rifle and headed towards the crumbling barn.

Away from the party.

"Well Maya, it won't get much more perfect than this," she whispered to herself, running her fingers through her hair to check for knots. She unzipped her jacket, making sure her bare mid-riff was clearly on show. "Time to rock that inner college slut."

She left her hiding spot, skirting around the rowdy party. It wasn't hard to stick to the shadows and she kept her eyes and ears peeled for any zombs that might have been drawn to the noise. She hopped the crumbling fence, dropping into a crouch as she listened for trouble. The coast clear, she moved to the side of the barn. The thing had definitely seen better days, half collapsed, it squatted on the limits of the property. Next to it was an old granary, and it was up there she spotted Mickey, rifle across his knees like Maya had sat earlier that morning.

For a moment she hesitated, back pressed up against the peeling wood of the barn as she wondered if she could really go through with it. Above, Mickey hefted his rifle, sighting down the barrel. A crack tore apart the night and in the tree-line, something flopped to the ground.

Mickey chuckled something to himself, taking another drink.

_Now or never. Do it._

Steeling herself, Maya stepped out of the shadows, holding her hands up.

"Don't shoot," she called up, and Mickey jerked his rifle towards her, narrowly toppling his bottle of moonshine off the ledge. "Not a zombie."

"Shit, girl," Mickey spat down at her, barely relaxing his hold on his rifle. "You make a habit of sneakin' round like that and you're gonna get that pretty head of yours shot off."

Maya shrugged. "Guess I just have to get better at sneaking then."

Mickey stared down at her for a minute before letting out a bark of laughter.

"Don't have nothin' to say to that," he said. "'Cept for wonderin' what the hell you're doin' here."

_You and me both, _Maya thought.

"Could be I wanted to check out one of these parties of yours. Can hear them clear across the valley and I felt left out."

"Well take a good long gander!" Mickey finally relaxed, dropping the rifle back to his lap. "Hell, have a drink. You look like you need it."

Maya crossed her arms with a snort. "And drink that swill you people call alcohol? That shit'll rot your insides."

Mickey held his bottle up to the moonlight, shrugging. "Fuck, it's better than rottin' on the outside like one o' them freaks."

He wasn't wrong.

Maya put a foot on the run of the ladder. "Mind if I come up?"

Mickey peered down at her. "I got a choice?"

Maya sighed. So much for her super plan of seduction. She climbed the ladder, the metal chilly beneath her palms. She did this often enough over by the farmhouse that heights didn't scare her anymore, but as she reached the top rung she realized there really wasn't much room, just a precarious looking ledge haphazardly fashioned with old wood planks and nails. Mickey took up most it, one leg bent and the rifle resting on it, the other dangling into the wide space below. He was wearing his usual red plaid and torn jeans.

"If I'd a known I'd have company I woulda cleaned the place up," Mickey drawled.

Maya managed to find a small space to perch, dangling her legs over the edge. "Love what you've done with it. The rotten floorboards really give it that feeling of home."

Mickey snorted, turning back to scan the dark trees below them. Maya stayed quiet, looking for danger as well. She hoped the Wilkersons had sentries or something posted around the property, all that noise was bound to draw in something.

Mickey frowned, rolling the bottle neck of moonshine between the fingers of his one hand. "I didn't know a'ight?" he said suddenly, defensive. "Was supposed to be a routine shakedown, but then that idiot pulled a gun and…"

He breathed out, shaking his head. "Fuck."

It took Maya moment for her to realize he was talking about the other day.

"You mean the three survivors I brought to you," she said quietly. "You said it was just a deal. I didn't think you'd actually kill the-"

"Wasn't like it was planned!" Mickey growled, bristling. "Job may be alotta things, but he 'aint no murderer. Things just…got outta hand."

Maya kept her silence. Mickey was volatile, and riling him up wasn't going to help her cause.

Mickey glanced over to the house with a scowl. "This fuckin' world. It's just…fucked. And what's Job doin'? Partyin' like it's all some sort a _game._"

Maya peered over the edge at the ground below. No zombies. "And you don't feel like joining in."

Mickey shifted, the rifle clacking in his hands. It really was a thing of beauty, high powered and scoped. "You hear all that noise? Well the zombs will too. Fuckin' idiot. More worried 'bout keepin' up a_ppearances _and shit."

Maya stared out over the treetops. "I guess it's important with a group as large and rowdy as yours. Things could get… _out of hand_."

She saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Sliding her rifle free, she sighted down the barrel, tracking it. A zombie in a waitress uniform ambled out of the shadows. Her one arm was frayed and dangling by a chord of rotten sinew, swaying in time with her drunken gait. Her eyes were gone, her cheeks peeled away from her skull in tattered strips.

Maya fired. The back of the zombie's skull exploded in a slew of black liquid and it flopped lifelessly onto the grass.

Mickey whistled. "You don't do too bad with that pea-shooter o' yours."

Maya braced the rifle butt against her thigh. "Come again? I'm pretty sure I didn't just hear you insult the love of my life."

Mickey grinned. "Stand aside baby girl, let me show you what a _real _gun can do."

Another zombie was shuffling towards them, drawn by the shot. Maya couldn't even tell what gender it had once been, it was too far gone. Just a shambling heap of rotten meat. Mickey hefted his gun up, squinting down the barrel intensely. As his finger squeezed the trigger Maya bumped his arm with her elbow. The shot went wide, smacking into the zombie's shoulder instead.

It moaned piteously but kept coming.

Mickey rounded on her with teeth bared and for a brief moment Maya's courage wavered. "The fuck you do that for?"

Steeling her resolve, Maya ignored him, bringing up her own rifle again. "Relax, baby girl. Let me show you what a _real _gun can do," she parroted, shooting the zombie clean through the forehead.

For a moment Mickey just blinked at her, and then started laughing. Full on body laughs, he shook the planks beneath them, slapping his knee with one hand.

"Damn woman, you sure served me that one," he shook his head, smiling. "Guess I deserved that."

Triumphant, Maya patted her rifle. "I'll forgive you, if you apologize to my baby here, and let me hold that beauty."

Mickey glanced down at his rifle, and Maya wondered if maybe she had pushed him too far. Finally he nodded, much to her surprise. "A'ight. Gimmie that pea-shooter."

They swapped, and Maya was surprised at how heavy Mickey's rifle was. She tucked it into her shoulder, checking out the scope. "She's a hefty girl, and just as powerful as I expected."

Mickey snorted, hefting Maya's own rifle. "She kicks like a mule. She'd break your shoulder if you tried firin'."

He held up the rifle, sighting down the barrel. "And I take back what I said. Your pea-shooter 'aint exactly a boom-stick, but it does the job. Consider me fuckin' told."

He shook his head, and they handed the gun's back to each other. "And you sure as hell know what you're doin'. Where'd you learn to shoot?"

"The Army," Maya answered, pleased he was even curious. "But my Uncle used to take me hunting as a kid too. Helped I guess."

"Figures. You shoot too clean to be anythin' other than military. You see any action?"

"Some," Maya set her rifle across her lap. "Fought in Afghanistan two years ago. Smaller assignments since then."

Mickey nodded at that, staring off into the distance as he leaned back. "And you're up here in this Turnbull shit hole 'cause…"

"Hunting trip," Maya said. "Hoped to bag some bucks before the season was over."

She sighed, glancing down at the now inanimate corpses below them. "Then…this happened. I didn't even know it until we hiked back to the camping grounds and got attacked."

"So you were army, liked huntin', and can shoot a damn sight better than most men I know," Mickey shook his head. "Anythin' you can't do?"

Maya shrugged. "I can't bake worth a damn. Burn every cake I try to make."

For the third time that evening she made Mickey laugh. It was a deep rich sound, vibrating around them in the night air.

He was almost…attractive when he smiled, Maya thought. His usual beanie hat was missing tonight, and beneath she was relieved to see he had a full head of hair unlike his brother_._ The beard and plaid usually gave Maya the impression of a lumberjack, but it suited him tonight, sitting in the cool night with a rifle in his lap. Without the scowl he looked younger, less like…well, a psychopathic hillbilly.

"You're alright," he finally said. "And…'M sorry 'bout Job. Him bossin' you round like he does. He was always a bossy little shit, even as a boy."

Maya glanced towards the house, where the party was in full swing. She could see the shapes of men around the fires, still drinking. She spotted the toothless woman on her knees, and glanced away quickly.

"Yeah well, we all have to do things we don't like these days," she muttered. "Job is doing what he thinks he has to."

Mickey took a gulp from the bottle, offering it to her. "Amen to that. Seen you out there runnin' the fields from time to time. Havin' any trouble out your way?"

Maya took the bottle, her fingers briefly brushing against his. "Nothing we can't handle. Few hunters and bloaters, but the big ones are my main concern. They do too much damage to the walls."

"Yeah," Mickey said, face darkening. "I remember."

Maya could have hit herself. "Shit I didn't-"

"Naw, it's fine," Mickey shifted, leaning his head back against the main bulk of the granary. "You did right by Eli. I never thanked you for it."

He breathed in through his nose. "Weren't easy to see him like that. So…thanks. For puttin' him outta it."

Maya nodded, taking a drink of the bottle. _One sip wouldn't hurt_, she figured. The alcohol stung something awful, but she swallowed it down. "You're welcome. He seemed a good kid."

She handed the bottle back. Mickey took it with a grunt. "He was."

They sat in quiet for a while, listening to the noises of the party and scanning the night. Finally Mickey cleared his throat, surprising Maya by reaching out and touching her hair.

"You done somethin' different," he said gruffly, fingering the ends of her hair briefly before pulling away. "Looks…pretty."

Was that an attempt at flirting? She shouldn't be surprised that like everything else Mickey did, it was heavy handed. But it was the chink in the man's fierce armor that she needed. Maya tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Thanks. Not practical but, after this week I felt like…trying something new."

"That so?" Mickey snorted. "Won't find much o' that round here. Everythin' 'bout this place is old as fuck and fallin' apart."

"Present company included?"

Mickey glared at her, but there was no heat in it. "I don't have that many years on ya. You just carry 'em a hell of a lot better than I do."

Maya feigned shock. "Mickey was that a compliment? Why I do declare."

It was the first time she had used his name, and Maya watched as a slight flush rose up his neck. "Shut up. Weren't nothin'."

It was Maya's turn to laugh, and Mickey flushed further, staring out at the trees with a fierce intensity. Judging the night air was warm enough Maya set her rifle down, shucking her coat down her arms. Her exposed skin looked pale in the moonlight, and Mickey noticed.

"What you doin' flouncing 'round in that for?" he asked, voice gruff. "Advertisin' all that flesh for zombs to munch on?"

Maya shrugged, swinging her legs. "Maybe a girl wants to look good every now and then. Most of the time I'm sure I look worse than the zombs. Surprised no-one's tried to take a shot at me out there."

Mickey looked like he was wrestling with himself to say something. Finally he seemed to bite the bullet and turned his face away from her, glaring at the trees below.

"You always look good," he mumbled, like the words were dragged out of him. "Fuckin' distracting is what it is."

Maya smiled slowly. "Do I now? You been watching me Mickey?"

"I'm not a perv or nothin'," he protested hotly. "I just…see you out there sometimes. Hard to miss."

The fact that Mickey had been watching her on runs wasn't as unsettling as it should have been. She was almost comforted knowing he had been there; ready to take out anything really nasty. She looked out at the bonfire, where the group was getting louder.

"Your group sure is rowdy tonight."

Mickey sighed, taking another drink from the bottle. "Been a long week. Lost some folks. They're blowin' off steam."

An opening, Maya thought fiercely. She needed to seize it while she could.

"And you?" she glanced over at him. "How do you blow off steam?"

Mickey's grey eyes darkened, and she caught his gaze dropping quickly to her chest. He hefted the rifle in his hand. "Shoot shit, usually. Get drunk, fight."

He met her eyes, as if challenging her. "Fuck, sometimes."

If he was trying to make her uncomfortable, he had failed miserably.

"Huh," Maya met those grey eyes with her own challenge. "You and I seem to have a lot in common."

They stared at each other as the noises of the party filtered towards them. Maya's heart was in her mouth but she kept breathing steadily through her nose. Mickey set the bottle slowly down on the slats.

"Careful now," he said lowly, and Maya nearly shivered at the deep pitch of it. "Don't go sayin' things you don't mean."

Maya held his gaze for another minute, before slinging her rifle over her back and shuffling towards the ladder. Swinging her legs onto the rungs, she glanced back up at Mickey. He was watching her, eyes dark and breathing heavier than he had been.

"I never say things I don't mean," she said, starting to climb down. "You should know that by now."

She desperately hoped he took the bait as she made her way to the ground, counting the seconds that seemed to pass. Her boots touched the grass and for a stomach churning moment she thought she had failed.

Then she saw the shape of Mickey swinging himself onto the ladder, rifle slung over a shoulder and she knew she had him.

She headed for the dark barn, out from the dangers of the open field. The air in the barn was cool, prickling the bare skin on her arms, and she debated putting her coat back on. But the sound of boots approaching told her there would be no need, and she stayed where she was, dropping her rifle to the ground and gazing into the dark.

Hands touched her bare shoulders, callused palms cupping the swell of their curves. He was warm, and Maya sighed as he slid his hands down her arms, chest bumping against her back.

"I uh…" Mickey cleared his throat, his breath moving Maya's hair slightly. He sounded almost bashful all of a sudden. "I meant what I said. You look…awful pretty tonight."

Maya arched her back, pushing her hips back into his. He grunted, hands moving to her hipbones, and Maya was satisfied to feel him already hard through his jeans.

"Not looking so bad yourself," she replied, skin prickling as he slid his hands along her exposed belly, arms holding her in place. His beard tickled the back of her neck as his mouth hovered above her skin, but he didn't move, as if waiting for permission. Maya was absurdly surprised. He stood a head and shoulders taller than her, he could have just taken anything from her and she'd be hard pressed to deny him.

She pushed back again, grinding slightly and it was then he pressed a kiss against the back of her neck, and Maya shivered.

_No going back now, _she thought. A wave of calm washed over her, and she relaxed further into his embrace.

"God knows, I want you," Mickey groaned in her ear, hips moving against her slowly. Fingers slid down her belly, teasing at her waistband before sliding down to cup her through her pants. She arched against him, surprised as a fissure of arousal sizzled up her spine. Mickey seemed pleased as well, with a growl he snapped his hips harder against her, and Maya grunted, pressing back.

He was turning her then, sliding his hand free and disorientated, Maya blinked up at him. Had she misjudged-

"I wanna kiss you," Mickey said roughly, voice low and husky. Maya felt another jolt of want. A callused hand slid up to cup her cheek, fingers tracing her cheekbone. "Lemmie kiss you."

Maya had imagined Mickey to be more of a taking sort of man, but she could work with this too. Sliding a hand up along the curve of his skull into his hair, she tugged him down into a kiss that rapidly turned filthy, open-mouthed and hot. She had mentally prepared herself for something unenjoyable, figuring the Wilkersons weren't big on hygiene, but Mickey only tasted of the sharp tang of alcohol.

Large hands spread along the back of her thighs, encouraging her harder against him. Beard and stubble scraped along her jaw, a stark contrast to the smooth chins she had enjoyed with her previous lovers, but she found she liked it, liked the rough masculine quality to it.

He was the one to break away first, leaving Maya panting and blinking in confusion. With a yelp she was hauled upwards, sure hands lifting her up until she was slung over his shoulder like some helpless heroine in a romance novel. He steadied her with one arm, using his other to scoop up her discarded rifle.

"Not fuckin' you here," Mickey grunted, striding out the barn with quick steps. "Too exposed."

He had a point, but Maya felt her pride sting as she was carried like a sack of potatoes up towards the house. His rifle banged against her shoulder as he walked, and Maya wriggled to find a more comfortable position on his shoulder.

A sharp sting against her ass made her yelp, and she dug her fingers into Mickey's plaid shirt like a pair of claws.

"Quit wrigglin'," Mickey said calmly like he hadn't just spanked her with her own rifle. "It's distractin'."

Maya glowered darkly out into the night. The men were hooting and cat-calling as they watched Mickey approach.

"Whatcha got there, Mickey?" One called to the laughter of others. "Looks like you caught yourself a hellcat. Looks mean."

"Fancy sharin?" Another called out, and it set off a ripple of more cat-calls and hollering, the circle of men tightening around them.

Maya forced herself to remain calm. It was all talk. If anyone tried anything she still had her axe, and if it came to it she could probably stab Mickey in the back-

"Paws off," Mickey growled as he walked by, hardly stopping. "Any o' you bastards so much as looks at her funny and you'll have my boot so far up your ass you'll taste it."

There were murmurs.

"We was only jestin'," someone said to her right, and Maya craned to see the speaker. "'Aint our fault there 'aint more willin' women to be had."

Maya's heart sped up at that. Though she never spoken of it to Lily for fear of upsetting the girl, she knew there had been cases of women getting attacked on runs, and not by zombies. Luckily no-one had been attacked from Maya's group, but she felt it was only a matter of time.

"Well this one is willin' and she's _mine, _so stick your tongues back in your fuckin' mouths and mind your own damn business," Mickey growled. The men slunk away from him like struck dogs. Such a public display of ownership rankled Maya, but she knew that in the long run it could only help her. The more Mickey staked a claim on her, the less trouble she'd get from the goons. She'd just have to put up with a loss of dignity.

Mickey climbed the steps, and Maya saw Job in the sea of faces looking at them. He looked murderous for a split second, but then he was gone; the door of the house slamming behind Mickey and leaving them in the quiet of the house.

"Sorry 'bout that," Mickey said, giving her a pat on the rump. "It's the only language those fuckers understand."

Maya twisted on his shoulder. "I think you enjoyed that a little too much."

Mickey chuckled, carrying her upstairs. "Might be I did."

The stairs creaked beneath his boots, and Maya cast a nervous glance at the walls. The whole place looked like a stiff breeze might blow it over, with its rotting boards and peeling wallpaper. It stank of damp, and she wondered why it was here the Wilkersons had set up their base. There were other places surely-

Mickey set her down, Maya's feet touching solid ground again.

"'Aint much, but it's mine," he said gruffly, stashing their guns up against the wall and closing the squeaking door. "Not what you're used to I bet but, it's all I got."

Maya turned to take in the room. A small room probably meant to be more of a study than a bedroom, the only furniture was a sad looking chair in the corner, clothes folded on top of it. Spread out on the floor was a camping mat and a moth-bitten blanket, headed by the flattest looking pillow Maya had ever seen.

She thought back to the real beds and mattresses at the farmhouse. No wonder the Wilkersons were so mean. Sleeping on this, she would be too.

Mickey shucked off his plaid shirt, revealing a grimy white t-shirt underneath. Maya realized she was trembling, her heart racing at what was going to happen.

_You can do this,_ she coached herself as Mickey reached for the hem of his t-shirt. _Maybe if you close your eyes and think of Col-_

Maya's thoughts derailed completely as Mickey pulled his shirt up and off, tossing it towards the chair. Underneath all that plaid and roughness Mickey Wilkerson was _ripped. _

His chest was well defined with a smattering of dark hair, his shoulders broad and strong looking. Unlike the beer belly she had been expecting he had a flat stomach that would make a much younger man jealous, the same dark hair trailing down towards his groin.

His biceps bunched as he crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow at her stupefied state.

"See somethin' you like?"

Embarrassed to be caught oogling, Maya sniffed, cocking her hip as she unbuckled her belt. "Maybe."

She felt exposed without the heavy weight of her axe, but she forced herself to drop it, kicking it away with her foot. Her boots went next, and Mickey stood silently, eyes darkening as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her pants, shimmying the tight fabric down her legs and stepping out of them.

She stood only in her underwear, feeling like a trembling fawn before a wolf.

"See something _you_ like?" she challenged as Mickey slowly padded towards her, toeing his own boots off and kicking them aside.

He grinned, wide and feral. "All of it."

He kissed her, taking her lips possessively as his hands spread along her ribs. He picked at the fabric of the sports bra, and taking the hint Maya raised her arms, letting him pull it up and over her head, tossing it aside.

In the cool air she felt her nipples tighten, and Mickey cupped her breasts in his hands, kneading them gently.

"You feel good," he mumbled as he kissed her again. Maya hummed a reply into his mouth, her own hands sweeping down the twitching muscles of his stomach to unbutton his jeans.

She got lost it in then, the feelings of giving and receiving pleasure. Mickey was gentler than she thought he would be, touching her carefully as if he was afraid she would break under his work-hard hands.

Maya had never considered herself delicate, but beneath Mickey Wilkerson's attentions, she almost felt it. She was hyper-aware of every touch, every movement he made. Her body seemed sewn together by threads that he was plucking, making her pliable beneath his fingers. Old scars from battlefields far away were scorched into her skin, mementos she had carried with her for years, proud of what they represented. He followed them with his lips and tongue, paying them tribute and when Mickey finally lay her down on the moth-bitten blankets, Maya was quivering. With need, with fear, she wasn't sure. Didn't care.

Mickey loomed over her, half his face outlined by the light cast by the fire outside. There was no way she could close her eyes and imagine him as someone else, he was too…_Mickey._

"I don't have nothin'," he said, leaning down to mouth at her ear. "And you're drivin' me to the point of not carin'."

Maya tried to concentrate on what he was saying. _He means protection, _it dawned on her. _Funny, I wouldn't even peg him as a guy to think of it._

"I don't care," Maya whispered, and she didn't. Not like she could get pregnant twice. She arched under him, wrapping her arms around his strong shoulders. "_Do it."_

He had kissed her as he pushed inside, and Maya cried out at the burn of it, hips shifting restlessly. He was a bigger man than her previous lovers, and she felt the stretch. He murmured against her hair, moving until he was fully sheathed inside her.

Maya breathed through her nose, relieved to feel the burn already dissipating, replaced with a pleasant fullness. Mickey kissed her closed eyes, groaning.

"You feel so good, darlin'," he crooned and Maya shivered. "So damn good."

Maya hooked her legs around his hips, crossing her ankles. "Then make my day and _move_,_" _she growled, and Mickey obeyed, hands curling over her hips.

Maya had expected sex with him to be rough. Maybe even boring. She had envisioned herself lying there stiffly while he thrust away grunting until he was finished.

But it wasn't. In fact, sex with Mickey Wilkerson was infuriatingly close to something like making love.

He moved slowly, setting a torturous pace that had her gasping, head rolling on the flat pillow.

"You look good like this," Mickey panted, and the things he said only seemed to inflame her further, his voice low and rasping. "In my bed, under me."

A hand tangled in her sweaty hair, dragging her back up to his lips as his hips pushed up against hers, driving him deep into her body. The threads holding her together snapped, and Maya keened, arching hard up against him. He cursed as she tightened around him, a hand flying to her thigh.

"Fuck I'm-"

His words turned into an incoherent groan as Maya tightened her muscles around him, and a minute later he had found his peak, still seated inside her.

He rolled them so they were on their sides, and Maya went willingly, still stunned that she had done it-she had seduced Mickey Wilkerson.

And she had _liked _it.

"Christ woman, I think ya broke me," Mickey groaned throwing an arm across his eyes as he struggled to control his breathing.

But Maya wasn't done yet. Not now that she knew what it was like with him.

"Who said we're done?" she growled, pushing him onto his back. She threw a leg over him, straddling his hips. Mickey looked up at her with wide eyes, but she felt him twitch interestedly against her. She leaned down to nip at his throat, and he answered her with a grunt.

"We're done when I say we're done," she said, distantly amused at her soldier persona bleeding through. "And we're not."

She had ridden him then, but only after coaxing him back to hardness with her hands and mouth. He came in her again, and after, he had paid her back in full, tickling her inner thighs with his beard as he coaxed her climax out of her with his mouth.

Then came round two, three, Maya couldn't keep track. She remembered him braced behind her at one point, taking her like a dog takes a bitch, and she had buried her face in the blanket, trying to muffle her cries of pleasure. Mickey had lifted her up then, wrapping his arms around her.

"Let them hear you," he had growled in her ear, the sounds of his hips slapping against her flesh obscene. "I want them to know what I'm doin' to you. How much you love it."

She had gotten her own revenge later, when Mickey shouted his climax so loud she was sure everyone straight across the valley heard it.

Eventually they collapsed in a mess of limbs and sweat, and Maya must have fallen asleep, because it was early morning when she awoke, grey light filtering through the cracked window. Mickey's arm was slung across her belly, his legs tangled possessively with hers. She stared up at the cracked ceiling for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

Maya winced, feeling the protest in her thighs as she shifted. Her back was cramped from lying on the hard ground, but she had done it. If she hadn't been pregnant already she'd have certainly been now. She had actually _done it_, and the sex had been… she colored slightly. The sex had been far better than she had dared hope.

But time was slipping rapidly by and she needed to get back to the group. She slipped out from under Mickey's arm, getting to her feet and rubbing at her eyes. Feeling her hair, she winced at the tangles Mickey had yanked there.

There was a displeased grumble behind her. "Come back t' bed."

Maya sighed, bending down to grab her discarded clothes. "I need to get back to the group."

There was a rustle, and despite her better judgment, Maya looked. Mickey was leaning up on his elbows, the blanket he had covered them with last night slipping low. His neck and chest was littered with love bites and his shoulders were red, raised trails showing where she had scratched him in passion. _Her _marks, and Maya flushed with shame. His hair stuck out in all directions, tousled from sleep and Maya had the absurd urge to reach out and smooth it down, to run the brown tendrils through her fingers.

"It's early. Plenty of time." He threw the blanket aside, and Maya got a glimpse of what exactly he thought they had plenty of time _for._

Maya was amazed he had it in him after all that. She glanced towards the door, wondering why she was even contemplating it. Her cheeks and breasts were red with beard burn, she was sure she had several hickeys she'd need to hide and yet…what was one more tumble? Last night was the first time in weeks she had just felt like _Maya. _She still hummed with it, the affirmation that she was alive and kicking.

With a sigh, she dropped her clothes, padding back towards him. "Alright, but keep those teeth to yourself. I don't need them freaking out thinking I was bitten by zombies."

Mickey chuckled, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down against him. He breathed her in, nose buried in her hair. "Alright darlin', whatever you say."

And if the pet-name made Maya's stomach do weird things, no-one but she needed to know.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** More sexy times! There will be plot eventually I swear...maybe.

* * *

Maya made it back to the farmhouse before the others were up, the sun just beginning to peek above the horizon through the trees. The roads were clear, any zombies she saw further away. She pulled the truck into her usual spot, turning the ignition off and eyeing the house through the windscreen. No-one was up in the watchtower yet, giving her a small enough window to sneak in.

Grabbing her pack, she exited the truck, trying to shut the door as quietly as she could. The squeaky gate was her next obstacle, but it was blessedly quiet as she slid in and latched it behind her. She didn't see anyone on her way inside, and quickly Maya hit the bathroom, locking herself inside. In the mirror she grimaced at her reflection. The stubble burn had died down a little, but she splashed more water on her face just in case. The finger-shaped bruises scattered along her hips would be easy enough to hide, and she could pass off the few hickeys on her neck as injuries gained in the field. Staring at herself, she had to stifle a laugh. With her bruised lips, tousled hair and stubble burn she looked more like a victim than a willing participant.

She cupped her hands into the bucket next to the sink. It needed refilling at some point, but the stale water felt good on her skin as she splashed her face. There was a pleasant ache in her muscles as she bent over, and she chuckled a little at herself. It had been a surprise for sure, actually enjoying not only Mickey's company but…the whole experience.

"Don't get used to it," she warned herself, glancing one last time in the mirror. "You got lucky this time."

Others were beginning to stir as she exited, and for the rest of the morning Maya kept her head down, doing small menial tasks around the farmhouse. A few boards needed re-hammering, the bedroom needed cleaning and dishes were starting to pile up in the sink. Lily joined her when Maya had sat down for the first time since getting back, grabbing an energy bar as her lunch.

"You okay?" the young girl asked, sinking down in a chair opposite Maya at the kitchen table. "You were out late and you're looking a little sore this morning. Something happen?"

Maya winced. She had thought she'd been covert, it wasn't like she was limping everywhere, but her muscles_ were_ stiff. Her legs, arms, hell even her _back _seemed to be talking to her, complaining of too much exertion at once.

Or maybe just from sleeping on that damn floor.

"The usual," Maya shrugged, stuffing the rest of the bar into her mouth and chewing hurriedly. "Ran into some zombs."

Lily narrowed her eyes. "Heard over the radio the Wilkersons were out last night. They didn't give you any trouble did they?"

Maya shook her head, the cereal bar dry as she swallowed. "Not that I saw." The lie came easily. "Hard to tell apart in the dark maybe, but I'm pretty sure it was just zombs."

"Huh," Lily looked like she didn't believe her, but she let it go. The rest of the day passed uneventfully, Maya helped Marcus improve his shooting, picked Ashlyn up after she got caught in a house by a hoard, even listened while Lily drew up even more plans for the farmhouse, this time a gym of all things.

It was with relief that Maya helped Patrick make a stew that evening. What dishes and bowls they had were chipped, but useable and everyone crammed into the house, laughing and passing around a few stale bread rolls someone had found that day. Maya watched them, spooning the thin broth into her mouth slowly.

Marcus, Ed and Lily sat close as always, Ed telling some sort of crazy story about his own stupidity that had Lily wracked with giggles. Briana, Danica, Karen and Nadia were discussing various methods of vegetable keeping, Deliliah, Ashlyn, Hilda and Leah busy leafing through some magazines Maya had brought back a few days earlier, reminiscing on easier times. Sam was sitting with the men, arguing over the most efficient way to put a bloater down, and Jacob was arguing with her. Raul, Gage and Tyler were half-listening, more content with stuffing their faces as Patrick passed them more rolls.

This was her group. She sat among them, feeling like a stranger for the first time. It was silly, she hadn't done anything _wrong, _but she felt like she had let them down. That by not believing in them she had betrayed them somehow.

_You've done nothing but ensured your survival, _Maya told herself. _Both of you._

Giving herself a shake, Maya turned back to her meal.

* * *

Maya studied herself in the mirror. Pulling her shirt collar away from her neck, she grimaced at the faint purple blotches marring her throat. The hickeys were fading, but the memories certainly hadn't. Past few nights Maya found had herself restless in bed, kicking off the covers and cursing Mickey Wilkerson for _not _being the selfish asshole she had pegged him as. In the darkness she could remember the feel of his hands on her, the phantom weight of his hips sliding against hers, and she had spent an hour or two every night scowling at the ceiling while she resolutely ignored the heavy ache in her loins.

It had been close to a week, and occasionally she found herself listening in on the Wilkersons' radio channel. For safety, she reasoned with herself, knowing what the Wilkersons were up to benefited everyone. She had run into only two of Job's goons but they had leered at her as she had hurried by, watching her pass with too interested eyes. She didn't have their respect yet, Mickey hadn't claimed her beyond one night. In their eyes she was probably considered ripe pickings.

And if she admitted it to herself, it stung her pride that she hadn't heard anything from Mickey.

_Get a grip, _Maya thought savagely, unlocking the bathroom door. _You're acting like some hormone-addled teenager and that certainly wasn't part of the plan._ She opened the door and yelped to find Lily standing there already, a worried look on her face.

"There's a Wilkerson at the fence," Lily blurted. "I don't know what he wants, but he's there and Maya I don't know what to _do."_

Sometimes the young girl's fear of the Wilkersons perplexed Maya, but then again she wasn't a local. She hadn't grown up hearing any boogie tales about what went on at the Wilkerson place, but Lily apparently had. Maya reached out to squeeze the girl's shoulder.

"It's alright Lily, I'll handle it."

Lily wrung her hands nervously as she followed the soldier towards the front door. "Marcus told him to go away but he's just standing there, waiting. I dunno Maya, those dudes give me the creeps."

Maya stepped out the front door, eyes immediately drawn to the figure leaning nonchalantly against her truck. Marcus was up the watchtower, scowling, arms crossed.

"You pull anything and I'll shoot your goddamn brains out!" he threatened as Maya crossed the front yard.

"Fuckin' try it," Mickey shot back, "We'll see who has the quickest draw."

Rolling her eyes, Maya unlocked the gate. Her heart was racing, and she felt like throwing up. She swallowed it down, giving herself a shake. "Boys, boys. You're both pretty."

Mickey watched her approach, thumbs hooked into his belt loops. He looked every inch the arrogant asshole she had met a few weeks ago.

"Your dog is awful twitchy," he drawled, glancing up to Marcus with a sneer. "Always barkin'."

Maya rolled her eyes as Marcus rattled off several curses above her head. "What do you want, Mickey?"

The hick pushed away from the truck. "Got a job for you."

Straight to business then. Maya crossed her arms.

"Last job you had for me wasn't so peachy. What makes you think I want to do any more of your dirty work?"

Mickey picked at his fingernails as if uninterested. It was like nothing had ever happened between them.

"No skin off my nose. Figured you'd be a little more concerned 'bout an infestation so close to home, but whatever."

He pushed away from the car, saluting Marcus up in the watchtower. "Been a blast."

Maya sighed. "Wait."

He paused, arching an eyebrow at her. He was back in his plaid and beanie, but his beard looked…shorter. Trimmed even. Maya narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm listening."

Mickey chuckled. The sound made her skin prickle at the memory of it vibrating against her thighs.

"Knew that'd get your attention. You got some freaks holed up in a shed 'bout a mile away. They've been attackin' our boys so consider this a…mutually beneficial proposition."

Maya sighed, glancing back towards the house. Marcus was obviously trying to listen in, leaning over the guardrail of the watchtower. He saw her looking and pretended to be checking the railing.

An infestation was something that needed to be dealt with. No matter what company she might have to keep.

"Fine. Let me grab my things."

She strode back in, grabbing her coat, weapons and pack. Lily popped her head out of the comm room.

"You're not actually going _with _him are you?" she asked worriedly. "Maya-"

"I'll be fine," she said briskly, shouldering her rifle. "I run into any trouble and I'll radio back. Expect me in a few hours."

She ignored Lily's protests, fishing the keys to the truck out of her pocket. Marcus peered down worriedly at her as she passed.

"You need any backup?" he called. Maya shook her head, shutting the gate behind her. It clanged loudly like a death toll.

"I'm good, Marcus. Keep an eye out while I'm gone."

Mickey didn't say anything, climbing into the passenger side of her truck. His rifle was too long to fit in the carriage so he had stashed it in the back, and Maya tossed her pack and own rifle on top before settling behind the wheel.

Marcus watched them worriedly as she started the trunk, tracking them as she pulled out of the yard and out onto the road. The silence in the truck was oppressive, and Maya gritted her teeth, concentrating on just driving. If he wanted to play it this way, fine. Maya had already gotten what she needed from him.

They were about a mile away from the farmhouse when he jerked his head to the left, towards a copse of trees.

"Pull over there," he grunted.

Rolling her eyes, Maya did, and as the car rolled to a stop, Mickey was out the door, walking towards the back of the truck. Maya sighed, turning off the engine.

"Remember, you chose this," she muttered to herself, cracking open the door.

Getting out, she squinted in the bright sun. There were no buildings she could see where an infestation might take root. Frowning, she put her hands on her hips, turning as she heard Mickey's boots scuff against the dirt.

"Well smartass I don't see-"

Mickey grabbed her, pushing her up against the open door as he cut off her sentence with his lips. Shocked, Maya just froze, staring at him until he pulled away with a wolfish grin.

"Been thinkin' of you all week," he said, hands already sliding under her jacket and top to touch her bare skin. His pale eyes were heated and Maya shivered under their scrutiny. "Jacked off so much I thought my hand might fall off."

Maya wrinkled her nose. "How romantic."

Mickey pushed into her space, breathing her in. "What, you didn't think o' me at all? Didn't touch yourself rememberin' what it was like havin' me 'tween your thighs?"

He was so _crude, _yet Maya found herself flushing in response, not protesting as he slid a muscled thigh between hers, his hands sliding to cup her ass.

"I thought you said there was an infestation," she managed feebly as he pressed an open mouthed kiss against her suddenly spasming jugular.

Mickey chuckled . "Oh there is. We'll deal with it after."

Maya bit down a groan. "After?"

Mickey pulled away with a self-satisfied smirk. Maya almost stumbled without him supporting her, and glowered as he laughed, moving away towards the back of the truck. Like a moth to the flame, Maya found herself trailing after him, curious.

He popped the tailgate down, shoving aside Maya's pack and their guns. Maya glanced around, but there was no-one anywhere in sight, not even a zomb.

"Seriously? Here? Now?" she asked incredulously, definitely _not _squeaking as he turned to grab her again, lifting her up to sit on the truck bed. He was undoing his belt, and Maya's mouth went dry.

"Why not," Mickey smirked, pushing her knees apart and stepping between them. "Never done it in the back of a pick-up before?"

Maya should have been appalled at herself, the way her fingers trembled as she pushed her leggings and underwear down her thighs, far too eager.

"Can't say I have," she shot back, the metal of the truck bed cold beneath her now suddenly bare ass. Mickey pulled her towards him, rolling the fabric down her legs and out of the way. It caught on her boots, and with a little mutter, he left them, just stepping over the bunched fabric.

"Well then hold on, darlin', I'm gonna show you somethin', new," he purred.

Locking her arms around his shoulders, Maya pulled him down and let him.

* * *

The shed had been infested with screamers and a bloater, and Maya grimaced at the stench as she shot the thing's distended belly, finishing it off with another blast to the head. Mickey was behind her, and took care of the screamers before they could do any damage. It felt good, having someone competent at her back. With his skill and aim, she could trust him to keep any strays off her and didn't have to constantly check over her shoulder.

She straightened as they picked off the last straggler.

"Well that went quick," she remarked. She hadn't even had to grab her axe. "Thanks, I guess."

Mickey snorted, rifle held loosely in his hands. "Like I said, those bastards have been givin' us trouble. Surprised your runners didn't have any problems with 'em."

"Well thanks for the help," Maya walked back to the truck, throwing her things in the back. "An infestation this big would've given me some hassle."

"Welcome."

She paused, turning to look at him. He looked unruffled, like he hadn't just killed a bunch of zombs and fucked her in the back of a pick-up truck only a half hour ago. It had been good, like before.

"You got somewhere to be?" he leaned over and spat on the ground. "I know a few other spots screamers like to lurk."

Maya wiped the back of her hand against her sweaty forehead. "What, like a date? Zombie shooting?"

Mickey shrugged. "We can fuck, after."

Now wasn't that a proposition.

Maya had always found it strange how the adrenaline of battle made people react in different ways. She had known some guys back in the army who cried after every fight, others who had to hit the gym and just worked themselves into an exhausted mess.

Maya had always felt a bit like a freak, but fighting turned her on, and now was no exception.

She slammed the tailgate shut. "After, huh?"

Mickey didn't resist when she turned and grabbed him by the front of his plaid shirt, hauling him towards the passenger side. He managed to throw his rifle in the back before she pushed him into the truck, clambering in on top of him to straddle his hips as she shut the door behind them. He kissed her, one hand fumbling with the seat to push it back and give her room as the other slid under her top to cup her breast.

She arched into the touch with a moan, and he kissed her exposed throat. She hadn't been wrong, he had trimmed his beard into something more civilized, and she smiled at the thought that he had cleaned himself up for _her._

"Christ, can't get enough of you," he mumbled against her lips, finally succeeding with the seat and reaching up to tangle his hands in her hair as she worked the fly on his jeans down. "_God, _woman."

Maya nipped his bottom lip, soothing the sting with her tongue. "As flattered as I am to be referred to so reverently, I have a name."

Mickey grunted as Maya wrapped sure fingers around him, jacking him slowly. Maya grinned, pleased at his quick reactions under her touch. "Maya. _Fuck, _Maya!"

"That's better," she said, the sound quickly bitten off in a grunt as Mickey slid his hand between her legs to touch her as she worked him.

"Maya," he said again, softer, and Maya forgot all about supposed plans, or how she was supposed to be just using Mickey for protection, not doing…whatever this was.

She just forgot…everything.

* * *

Maya made it back to the farmhouse late afternoon. Her hair was a mess that she had hurriedly tried to comb out with her fingers, there was a suspicious stain on the knee of her pants, and though she had driven home with the windows wide open, she was sure her truck would smell like sex for the next week.

Lily was waiting for her in the comm room like an angry mother hen.

"What the hell, Maya? Are you running jobs for the Wilkersons again?"

Maya bit down on her annoyance. Lily was just scared. Never-mind that Maya had kept her safe, clothed and fed thanks to some of those Wilkerson jobs.

"It was just an infestation that needed clearing out. Mickey did us a favor."

"It's never _just _a favor with them," Lily shot back hotly. "They always collect, eventually. I don't like them, Maya, they're bad news. I keep telling you but you won't listen."

"We can't afford to burn bridges, Lily," Maya argued back, reigning in her temper. "We stay on their good side, they leave us alone."

"But apparently they don't," Lily shook her head. "I'm just worried about you Maya, we all are. Marcus said Mickey looked too comfy with you, like he was taking liberties or something. If he's done anything-"

"Well Marcus is wrong," Maya said, a little too quickly. "Now drop it. My business is my own, and you know I'll keep the group safe."

Lily deflated, accepting defeat. "Yeah, I know. I just…be careful okay?"

"I will." Maya reached out to touch Lily's hair tenderly. "Don't worry so much, Lil. I'm okay."

Lily cracked a smile. "Well someone has to."

Maya found Briana and Danica in the living room, patching up holes in the communal clothing. She sat down with them, reaching into the basket to pick something up.

"Oh you don't have to help us, Maya," Briana said with a smile. "We got it covered."

"Yeah," Danica added, pulling the needle through a pair of jeans. "You do enough already. Go have a nap or something."

Maya laughed, pulling the item of clothing into her lap. "I'm not even sure I could. It's like I need to be doing something every minute. Just humor me."

The women shrugged.

"Alright, here, we got some pins as well if you need them."

Danica passed her a small pot of needles and thread. Maya had managed to pick a faded t-shirt that had once been blue, so she picked a blue thread that was close enough to the same color.

"We were just talking about the men," Briana said in a conspiring whisper. "You ever play that game, fuck, marry, kill?"

Maya shook her head. "No but I have a feeling I'm about to."

The women shared twin smiles. "You're in. I had just given Danica Ed, Tyler and Doc Hanson."

"Doc Hanson?" Maya wrinkled her nose. "He's like twice your age."

"Which is why I had to kill him," Danica said sadly. "I was debating on who to marry."

Sam emerged from the infirmary, stretching. "Who's marrying who?"

Before long they had a small group gathered around fixing clothes and throwing names at each other. Nadia held her needle up triumphantly.

"Got it!" she laughed. "Maya, this is for you."

Maya sighed, managing to have avoided most of the previous suggestions. "Shoot."

Nadia looked mischievous as she looked around the circle. "Marcus, Gage, Jacob."

Maya snorted. "Seeing as Jacob doesn't bat for our team, I guess I'd have to kill him."

There were laughs. Maya considered the other two options.

"Marry Marcus, fuck Gage," she decided amongst titters.

The door opened and Gage tromped in as if listening. "Someone say my name?"

The women laughed. "Maya was just telling us how she'd marry Marcus but fuck you. Congrats!"

The mechanic looked interested. "Come again?"

Maya sighed. "It's a game. Fuck, marry, kill."

"Oh yeah, we used to play that shit in high school," he laughed, wading into their circle. "Someone hit me, I want in."

Maya tuned them all out, concentrating on her work. Beneath her fingers the hole in the shirt was shrinking, and she was concentrating so hard she missed the darker turn the game took.

"Alright Deliliah, here's one for you," Sam said. "Screamer, bloater or hunter."

Deliliah scrunched her nose up. "Well I guess fucking a screamer wouldn't be much different to my ex-husband."

Laughs rippled around the group. The red-head tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Kill bloater because, ick, and marry the hunter. At least he could catch me something to eat."

Leah snorted. "I think we've managed to hit the level of grossest shit possible."

"Not quite," Hilda interrupted. "Maya!"

Maya raised her head. "My turn again?"

Hilda looked around the circle with a dramatic flair of her hands. "A zombie, and…_the Wilkerson brothers."_

Gleeful gasps went up in the group, Gage laughing as he hit his thigh. "Ladies and gentlemen, _now _we've reached the level of grossest shit possible."

Maya felt her cheeks redden. "Come on guys-"

"No back outs!" Hilda cried. "If Deliliah can fuck a screamer, you can give us your list."

Deliliah shoved the other woman. "I didn't say I _wanted _to."

Maya sighed. "Kill the zombie, fuck Job and marry Mickey."

The group all blinked at her.

"Well…that was fast," Sam remarked.

Maya shrugged, keeping her eyes on her work. "Job scares the shit out of me, no way I could ever put up with him for a lifetime. Killing the zombie is the norm, and that leaves marrying Mickey."

Briana made a noise of disgust. "I think I'd rather marry the zombie. At least then I'd know what I was getting into when it tried to kill me."

"But what if it was a _hillbilly_ zombie?" Hilda asked.

Briana considered it for a moment. "Still the zombie. It probably smells better."

The group all laughed. Maya gritted her teeth, keeping her eyes on her stitches. Luckily no-one prodded her again, merely passing the question on to another.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:** More sex LOL wat. Plot is coming...Wilkerson POV next chapter!

* * *

"You gonna come 'round tomorrow evenin'?"

Maya paused, body half inside the closet she had been investigating. The musty smell of mothballs tickled her nose, but she swallowed down a sneeze. "What's tomorrow?"

Mickey was leaning against the bedroom door, rifle in his hands. He was supposedly keeping an eye out for zombs but seemed to be watching her backside instead as she rummaged around in the closet on her hands and knees.

Not that Maya would complain. Mickey had started appearing when she was doing scavenging runs and having him keep a lookout was invaluable; Maya hadn't been touched by a zomb in days. She hadn't been surprised when he had materialized as she had started searching the house, unfazed by his presence.

Mickey shrugged, something shifting in the pack on his back. "Havin' another party. The boys found some crates of whiskey a town over. Job said we're all gonna break 'em open."

Maye pulled a moldy box towards her, wrinkling her nose as she rummaged inside for something usable. "A hillbilly hoedown, huh."

"You know it," Mickey hooked a thumb into his belt loop. "So you gonna come?"

Maya hesitated. Sneaking out might prove hard, but it was doable if she played her cards right. And there wouldn't be anything more public than a party. Seeing her with Mickey might reiterate to the goons that she was off limits. The few run ins she had had so far with them had been…uncomfortable.

"I guess," Maya shuffled backwards out of the closet. "I'll have to check my calendar."

Mickey chuckled, pushing away from the door. "You do that. I'll be lookin' for you."

Maya got to her feet, dusting down her knees. "Aw, leaving so soon?"

He strode forward, and Maya tilted her chin. Chuckling, he bent down to press a chaste kiss to her lips. His mouth was warm, beginning to feel familiar against hers. "Job'll be wonderin' where I got to. You play nice with those fellas shufflin' out front, ya hear?"

Maya snorted, hand moving to the axe at her hip. "No promises."

She watched him leave, a swagger in his step. Rolling her eyes, she crouched back down, rummaging in a drawer. She was truly out of her mind, agreeing to what sounded suspiciously like a _date. _

The drawer yielded nothing so she moved to the next, keeping an eye out for stashed guns. Her hands touched leather, and curious, Maya wrapped her fingers around what felt like a boot, pulling it out of the recesses of the drawer. She nearly laughed, managing a very unlady-like snort in her attempt to be quiet.

A pair of leather cowboy boots.

All she needed was a hat like Doc's and she'd fit right in. Curious, she checked the size and found them only one size bigger than her own.

"When in Rome…" she muttered, toeing off her combat boots. Sliding the boots on she was surprised at how comfy they were, and she gave a little twirl in the cracked and broken mirror set in the closet door. A rummage through the hanging clothes revealed a few tops she'd take back to the farmhouse for communal wear, some jeans, and a pair of the shortest shorts she'd ever seen. She shook them out, eyeing how the pockets dangled down the legs.

She held them up to her hips, smothering another laugh at the picture she cut in the mirror.

She knew _exactly _what she was going to wear tomorrow.

Shaking her head at herself, she took the boots off and tossed everything into her duffle, slinging the now heavy bag across her back. The rest of the house was pretty picked clean, and her own boots laced back on, she exited through a back window, avoiding the few moaning corpses loitering on the front porch.

The grasses in the fields were beginning to grow tall without a farmer to control them, and Maya found she had to push through some of them, their long stalks slapping against her thighs as she strode through. As per usual the fields were full with zombs, but Maya skirted around them easily enough, staying just out of reach of their rotting grasping fingers.

The longer time passed, the slower they seemed to get. Maya had hope that eventually they would just rot away completely and be harmless, but it could be years yet.

One of their outposts loomed to her left, and she glanced over at it, assessing. The traps looked still set, and she could see a small hoard ambling towards the barn from the road. Cutting up the hill towards the farmhouse, she heard a small boom in the distance, signaling one of their other outpost traps had succeeded. Maya smiled.

Tyler was on watch as she approached, shooting her a friendly wave. Maya copied it, shielding her eyes against the glare of the sun to look up at him.

"Any trouble?" she called up.

Tyler shook his head. "Nah. A few screamers out in the field but they're staying put. Marcus thought he'd get rid of them once you got back."

Maya chuckled, pulling open the gate. "Nothing I love more than doing some target practice on screamers."

"That's what Marcus said."

She dumped her pack in the bedroom, and had barely taken two steps before being assaulted with things she needed to do from three different people.

She stifled a sigh. Maybe a party wasn't such a bad idea after all. Anything to get away for just a little while.

* * *

The Barrett house was as rowdy as the last time she'd been there. The bonfire had been relit, throwing an orange glow across the partiers. The boom box was back, playing an eclectic mix of country and hip hop on repeat.

Maya climbed out of her truck, slamming the door. She felt a bit self-conscious, but gave herself a shake, forcing a shimmy to her walk that had driven Colten and Strand crazy once upon a time. She had chosen a short sleeve white blouse to team with the shorts, and teamed with her new cowboy boots and shorts she felt like a country boy's wet dream.

It was some of the women who noticed her approach first, and they shot distrustful looks towards her. Maya recognized Dylan, one of the goons Job frequently sent to inform her of jobs needing doing. He was sitting down in a chair, his face buried in the neck of a top-heavy woman who looked a few years older than Maya. The woman sneered at Maya as she walked up.

"Well lookee here, if it 'aint the whore comin' to join our fun," she spat, the discolored globule of spit narrowly missing Maya's foot.

Maya arched her eyebrow. _And what does that make you exactly?_

Another woman swayed close, her hand down a man's jeans. "You 'aint wanted here, Princess."

Maya ignored them, pushing into the throng of bodies. Some drunken men turned to her, smiling goofily.

"'Lo there gorgeous," one slurred, hand groping for her thigh. "Bring some o' that honey over here."

Maya merely moved by, resisting the urge to break any wandering hands. She was here to cement her alliance with the Wilkersons, not ruin it.

It wasn't hard to pinpoint where the Wilkerson brothers were; it was here the throng of women was thickest, almost six in all. Job had two planted on his knees, whispering in their ears. The girls looked barely over eighteen, and Maya wrinkled her nose in disgust as she spotted Job's hands wandering up beneath their tank tops.

"Come _on,_ Mickey," Maya heard a voice wheedle, and she turned, trying to peer through the crowd. "'Just a quickie, I swear."

Like his brother, Mickey was sprawled in a lawn chair, legs wide open as he drank from a bottle of whiskey. A middle-aged woman was trying to slide into the v of his legs, hands kneading his thighs.

Huh. Seemed Maya had some competition. It made sense she supposed, every other woman in the place wanted to bag the protection of one of the Wilkersons for themselves. The other women probably saw Maya as some kind of interloper.

And worse, Mickey wasn't shoving the woman off him. He didn't reciprocate her touch, but he didn't stop her as her hands slid up and down his thighs, moving closer to-

Maya had to do something. She had to get Mickey _interested. _The music changed to something with a louder beat, and there were drunken hollers, bottles clinking together as the men and women starting gyrating together.

_Right,_ Maya thought stubbornly. _I can play this game._

Trying to ignore how stupid she felt, Maya closed her eyes, listening to the beat. Slowly her hips started to move in time, and tossing her head back, Maya gave herself over to the music. She had loved dancing as a younger woman, happy to strut her stuff in the dimly lit clubs she had frequented with her female friends. It was easy to fall into the old habit, and with a smug sense of triumph, she felt several men sway closer.

Opening her eyes, Maya picked the closest man, a goon in ripped jeans and a wife beater. It was easy enough to slide into his space, and he didn't hesitate to slide his grimy hands over her hips. He stank of sweat and alcohol, his breath hot and sharp against her face. She allowed it for a while, before pushing away. Another hand grabbed her arm as she was dragged up against another man, and she followed the movements of his hips with her own.

It was a low snarl that made the man freeze, his hands leaving her as if scorched. Maya stifled a smile.

"Git," came Mickey's growl, and the man scurried off into the crowd. Maya turned, crossing her arms.

"Way to ruin the mood," she remarked drily. Mickey was breathing hard, his hands curled into fists. Behind him the woman who had been touching him lay on the ground as if pushed off him, glaring daggers at Maya.

"And what the hell was that?" Mickey snarled, stepping up into her space. His eyes were wild, every muscle tense as if ready for a fight. Maya tilted her head back defiantly to stare him down, unafraid. "Lettin' him put his fuckin' hands-"

"You were busy," Maya shrugged, as if uncaring. "Thought I'd entertain myself if you weren't going to."

His eyes raked down her body, lingering on her bare legs and boots. "'M here now."

Maya snorted. "Maybe you're too late."

Maya turned her back on him as if to leave. With another growl, he grabbed her, hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as he pressed himself up against her back. His body was a hot solid weight against her, dwarfing hers.

"You fuckin' dance like that with anyone but me," he muttered in her ear, fingers digging into the curve of her hips. "And I'll shoot their goddamn cocks off."

Maya smiled slowly. Seemed Mickey was a possessive type of man, and that suited her just fine. She rocked back against him in time to the music, and he moved with her, following the movement of her hips with his own.

"You say the nicest things," Maya turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. "I see another woman putting her hands on you like that, I get to cut them off."

Mickey groaned against her ear as she swiveled her hips. "A-fuckin'-men to that, darlin'."

Maya had staked her territory. In the crowd she could see a few of the women shooting angry looks her way, but no-one else approached Mickey the rest of the night, and no-man even dared to _look _at her.

The fire had died low by the time Mickey dragged her into his room, mouth hot on hers. She could hear the sounds of others nearby, other women who had found their protectors for the night, and it was with a certain smugness that she undressed, throwing her clothes towards the chair. Outside she could hear a few rifle shots signaling that the Wilkersons had at least posted sentries before the party.

"Fuckin' love those boots," Mickey said, pulling them off her feet. Stretching her leg up, he pressed a kiss to the back of her knee. "And damn, woman your legs…Every man was lookin' at you, but you were with _me._"

_Yes I am, _Maya thought fiercely, as he took her on top of the blankets of his bed. _And you're mine._

* * *

Maya noticed a change, after that. Any goons she ran into were respectful, merely giving a nod and moving on their way. No leers, no cat-calls. She fell into a new routine, heading out to do her runs during the day, and usually when she was halfway through gathering, Mickey would appear.

Sometimes he helped her load the bags into her truck, sniping any zombs that came too close. But usually, Maya would find herself sliding up into his space, pressing her curves against his hard angles as the supplies lay forgotten on the floor.

She wasn't sure where it was she lost control of the situation with Mickey Wilkerson. Could be she had lost control that night she made the decision to seek him out in the first place, or maybe it was the first time he showed her that a Wilkerson knew more than just violence.

Whenever it was, Maya found herself fucking Mickey Wilkerson in quiet places all over town. Closets, storerooms, hell they even did it in the big walk in freezer over at the restaurant. It was like she couldn't get enough of him, couldn't get enough of how he made her forget things, even if just for a little while.

The minute his hands touched her skin she forgot about zombies, about the responsibilities awaiting her back at the farmhouse. Mickey didn't need saving, and Maya reveled in the brief respite of his arms.

Today's spot was a hayloft at a barn outpost a few miles away from the farmhouse. It was cliché, but Maya forgot to care as Mickey tumbled her into the sun-warmed straw, his mouth demanding and full of promise. The moments grabbed in town were always rough and quick, both ever mindful of the danger lurking around every corner. But out here, with zombs fewer and further between, they could take their time, and it was like the first time, slow, quiet and far too intimate.

Afterwards he sprawled out on his back, hands folded behind his head looking like a pleased tom cat. Maya sat up, picking a loose strand of hay out of hair, not bothering to cover herself. She had lost her embarrassment about being naked around Mickey.

"Sometimes I think I'm dreamin," Mickey mumbled. "And I'm gonna wake up soon." Maya paused, glancing over at him.

"What?"

Mickey rolled onto his side, uncaring of his nudity. He stretched out his hand, stroking her bare thigh. Goosebumps rose at his touch. "You, me. _This_."

Maya blinked at him, trying to wrap her head around what he was implying.

"You've lost me."

Mickey snorted, sitting up. His palm slid up her thigh, towards her belly. "Back before all this, you wouldn't be caught dead with me. A pretty woman like you, I bet you had men linin' up outside your door to just get a _look. _A poor bastard like me wouldn't get close."

Maya frowned. He wasn't exactly wrong. Before all this, Maya would probably have crushed men like Mickey under her heel in bar brawls.

His fingers touched her hip. "What changed?"

Maya narrowed her eyes at him. "What _changed?_ How about the end of the world?"

Mickey chuckled. "Sure. 'Cept you've got plenty of strappin' men at your beck and call back in your group. And most of them a hell of a lot younger than me."

He moved closer, wrapping his hands around her waist and drawing her into his lap. "Why me, Maya? Why an old dog with bad manners?"

"You're not old."

"Older than you."

"I have a _rifle _older than myself."

Mickey rolled his eyes, pressing a light kiss against her lips. "Quit your bitchin' and just tell me."

Maya considered the question. The truth was off limits, but lying didn't sit well with her.

"Because…" she shrugged helplessly. "You're a survivor. I'm tired of looking after people all the time, Mickey, people who look to me as some sort of leader. I wanted…" she frowned searching for a word. "I wanted an equal. Someone who could even look after _me _from time to time."

Mickey laughed, nuzzling his nose into her dark hair. "And you thought a Wilkerson would suit."

"No," Maya said truthfully, stroking her hands down his arms. "Just you."

Mickey went quiet at that, and she lay in his arms, content with the silence. She trailed her fingers down his forearm, head resting on his shoulder. The hair on his arms was dark and coarse, and she played with it, tracing patters with her fingertips.

"When I first saw you," Mickey suddenly said, and Maya paused. "I thought you was some uppity bossy bitch come to make our lives a livin' hell."

Maya snorted. "Not much has changed."

Mickey squeezed her lightly, and she fell silent. "You just sauntered in and…that was that. You took care of Eli, though he was no kin of yours. You helped us fight off that fat fucker and you didn't kick up no fuss 'bout it."

He stroked her shoulder, pushing her hair away. "You helped folks. That one fella, the one Job beat up so bad-"

"Sam," Maya murmured. "His name's Sam."

"Sam," Mickey acknowledged. "He owed us. And you just stepped in and paid it in full. You didn't expect nothin' in return you just did it 'cause that's what you do_._"

Silent, Maya let him speak. Mickey sighed.

"I couldn't understand it. No-one ever treated me and mine like that, so why should we go 'round treatin' strangers like they're family? I thought you were outta you're goddamn mind."

He kissed the curve of her shoulder. "Now _I'm_ the one outta my goddamn mind. I'm fuckin' useless back at the house, always just waitin' till I can come out here and see you. I feel like a goddamn teenager again, horny as hell every time I catch even a glimpse of ya. Hell, I don't even get all that mad and lose my temper no more. What you done to me?"

Maya raised her head from his shoulder. "I keep hearing about this fabled Wilkerson temper. Never seen it."

"And you don't wanna," Mickey scolded her, tucking her hair behind her ear. "'Aint nothin' a lady should see."

Maya laughed. "A lady? Is that what I am?" She shifted on his lap, grinning as he growled at her. "Would a lady be in such a delicate…_position?"_

Mickey's eyes were heated. "Naw. Only a fuckin' zombie killin' Goddess."

Maya choked back a laugh and Mickey seized the opportunity to topple her onto her back, pinning her wrists to the straw as he hovered over her.

"Guess what I'm tryin' to say," he muttered gruffly, embarrassed. "Is you're goddamn beautiful, Maya. And I'm a lucky bastard."

Maya smiled, pleased and unexpectedly touched. "See? Compliments. You're just full of surprises, Wilkerson."

He leaned down to kiss her, nipping her lower lip.

"Lord knows I try."

Being with Mickey…was so much easier than she had ever imagined. As he released her wrists, she wound her arms around his shoulders, hooking her knees over his hips.

He made her forget things, made her…feel.

Even only being with him for a short time had shown her a different side to him, so far from the arrogant hillbilly she had thought he was. With his men he was brisk and authoritive, not afraid to get his point across with harsh words and fists. With her, he was…softer. Gentler. And that gentler side was hers, and hers alone.

As he made love to her in the straw, the dead shuffling below them, Maya could admit to herself that she was starting to actually like Mickey Wilkerson.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky by the time Maya trudged through the front gate to the farmhouse. Lily was waiting as she entered, watching her as Maya stashed her pack and weapons.

"You're back late," Lily said.

Maya chuckled, reaching out to give the young woman a mischievous poke. "What are you, my mother? Took a while gathering stuff."

Lily watched her as Maya crouched to check that the contents of her bag were still intact.

"Maya," she began haltingly. "You know you can count on us right?"

Maya paused, glancing up. Lily was twisting her hands, avoiding her eyes. "Sure I do. What's wrong, Lil?"

Lily shook her head. "It's nothing just…we've got your back okay? You spend so much time making sure we're safe. You save us when we get into trouble and get us supplies. We're all alive because of you. But you don't have to be superwoman all the time, we can help you too, if you let us."

Maya got to her feet. "I appreciate the sentiment, Lil. What's brought this on?"

Lily smiled shakily. "I just…wanted you to know. That if you're in trouble, we're here."

Her piece said, Lily scuttled back towards the radio room. Maya stared perplexedly after her. What exactly had gotten into her?

Maya shrugged, heading for the kitchen. Marcus was there, sitting at the table and reading a manual on gardening.

"Gonna try your hand at a farmers life?" Maya asked, grabbing the chair opposite him. "I bet you'd look good in overalls."

Marcus put the leaflet down with a snort. "I've been reading this damn thing for fifteen minutes and it still doesn't make a lick of sense. I don't think farming is my thing."

He pushed the leaflet away. "How you been, Maya? Haven't seen much of you lately."

"You know how it is. No rest for the wicked."

Marcus cracked a smile, but it was tired. "You hear about our neighbours across the way?"

Maya frowned. "No. You mean the group up on the hill by the water tower?"

"Yeah. Sam stopped by this morning. They're…well. They didn't make it."

"Christ," Maya leaned back in her seat. "What happened?"

Marcus grimaced. "By the looks of it one of those big ones got in. They didn't stand a chance."

"Fuck," Maya ran a hand through her hair. "They had like ten people over there. All of them gone?"

"Sam couldn't exactly figure out who was who. Way she told it, the bodies were just…mush."

"Godammit," Maya slapped her palm on the table. "Just…fuck. I knew we should've tried to get them more supplies."

"Probably wouldn't have helped," Marcus tried to console her. "Not against one of them."

"Still. We should double the watch for a few nights. Make sure we don't get the same visitors."

Marcus nodded. "You got it."

Maya rose. "Thanks, Marcus. I know I never say it but…you do a great job around here."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not nearly as great as you. But thanks, Maya. Appreciate it."

Maya headed for the comm room. There was a call she needed to make that she'd been putting off.


	5. Chapter 5

**WARNINGS: **This chapter has **NON-CON** in it. Some dark stuff. If that's a trigger, please avoid. Also lots of swearing and crudeness. Damn Wilkersons and their potty mouths.

* * *

Mickey's long legs took the stairs two at a time, the sounds of repair work echoing around him. He had set the men to boarding up the worst of the damage to the house, areas where the damp walls had begun to give way beneath clawing undead fingers. It wouldn't be so bad if they weren't running out of supplies, the fences needed re-doing but they had little lumber to spare.

He stomped towards Job's room, twisting the doorknob viciously as he pushed inside. "Job, the fence needs-_Jesus!_"

Mickey's head on march faltered and he turned his face away, stomach sinking.

Job was sprawled out on the floor, one knee bent as he lazily guided one of the Jepson girls' head up and down over his groin. Mickey's stomach twisted and he kept his eyes resolutely turned away from the scene, gritting his teeth.

"Goddammit, Job. We gotta talk so just, stop-"

"Gimmie a minute, Mickey," Job grunted, and Mickey cringed as he heard the girl let out a whimper. "Just-ah-_there!_"

His brother was a fucking asshole, but that was something Mickey had always known. He glanced over cautiously after a beat and luckily Job was already tucked away, straightening his clothes as he shoved the girl away. The girl curled in on herself like a pillbug, and Job ignored her like she wasn't there.

"What's so goddamn important you come bargin' in here?"

Mickey tried to drag his eyes away from the trembling girl. "Well the fence, for one. It's fallin' apart from all those zombs gatherin' on it."

"So replace it," Job said, fishing in his pockets for a cigarette. "You can do that without me tellin' ya."

"Don't fuckin' sass me. We're low on lumber after that deal you did with that fuckface over in Kendall. We 'aint got nothin' to patch it up _with."_

Job just shrugged. "So? Just get somethin' else."

Mickey watched his brother incredulously as Job placed a cigarette between his lips, casting around for a lighter. "Somethin' else? Like what? Maybe you're goddamn big ass _head?_"

Finding his light, Job lit up, blowing the first gust of smoke over towards the cowering girl. "Send some o' the boys out. I'm sure they can rustle somethin' from our neighbours."

Mickey tapped his boot impatiently, crossing his arms. "'Aint no neighbours _left, _Job. Most of 'em have moved on, or been fucked by the zombs."

Job got a weird look in his eye. "Not all. I know of one group that's sittin' pretty."

Mickey glowered. "No."

Job sighed, reaching out to grab the ankle of the girl trying to subtly inch away. He dragged her towards him, and Mickey tried to ignore the muffled cry she let out. "Mickey, I don't give a shit about what you choose to fuck, but you can't let some cunt get in the way of good business."

The girl struggled briefly as Job pulled her into his lap, and he backhanded her. She went still and pliant beneath him, and he stroked a hand down her arm.

"See? You gotta show 'em who's in charge or they walk all over ya. Now," Job moved the girl so she was astride him, knees on the floor. "You send the boys out to get somethin' to patch the fences up."

Mickey avoided looking at the girl's tear-stained face. Guilt twisted low in his stomach. "And I said _no_. I'll send 'em out sure, but you know goddamn well we can't fuck over Maya's crew. Deal was they help us, we leave 'em. And they helped us plenty."

Scowling unhappily, Job extinguished his cigarette on the shoulder of the girl. She cried out, trying to twist away but he dug his fingers into her arm, keeping her in place.

Mickey's stomach rolled. "Jesus, Job-"

"That was your goddamn fault, Mickey," Job snapped. "Helped us plenty? Well that bitch has certainly helped _you, _that's for damn sure. You take up with her and suddenly you've gone _soft? _Grow some fuckin' balls and do what I tell ya."

Mickey's blood was beginning boil. "The hell you say to me?"

Job unzipped his jeans. "You heard me, now get the fuck out. Unless you wanna see how a _real _man fucks."

Furious, Mickey resisted the urge to lunge at his brother. That weren't who he was no more, at the mercy of his temper. Not wanting to see the shit his brother got up to, Mickey turned on his heel and left, slamming the door on the girl's cry of pain. This was some new level of fucked up shit that Job had reached, come the end of the world. There was only so much Mickey could turn a blind eye to until even he couldn't handle it no more.

One of the regular bed-warmers was lurking on the stairs. She ignored the cries coming from the bedroom, apparently used to it, and that made Mickey even sicker.

"Hey, Mickey," she crooned as he stomped by. "You look tense. Need some relief?"

Mickey shook her hand off as she reached for him. "How many times I gotta say naw, Crysta? Go fuck someone willin'."

She pouted, but she left him alone as he clattered down the stairs. Mickey strode out onto the porch, breathing hard as if winded.

Fuck this place, and what Job was doing. God, he was turning more and more into their old man as each shitty day passed.

Mickey had fucking hated his old man.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He wasn't like Job. He wasn't some sick son-of-a-bitch preying on-

"So what's the plan?"

Mickey turned. A group of five men waited on the porch, armed and ready. He couldn't remember the name of the one who had spoken. Will, Bill, he didn't fucking know. Didn't matter, the man would probably be dead by the end of the week.

The man shifted. "We headin' out and doin' some raidin'?"

"Naw," Mickey said. Fuck Job, the fucking little shit. Thinking he could boss Mickey round like he was some sort of emperor, sitting up there and fucking girls who couldn't say no. "We gonna do some honest scavenging, boys."

The men exchanged looks. Mickey bristled. "You got a fuckin' problem with that?"

Hurriedly the men shook their heads.

"Good. You, take point. I'll take the rear and cover all your useless asses."

The men scrambled to obey. Mickey may not have Job's respect, but at least he had the mens'. It was something. Mickey grabbed his mostly empty pack and rifle stashed by the door, swinging both onto his back.

There were a few houses down the way they hadn't had the time to clear out, so they set off on foot, leaving the cars behind. A few men chattered aimlessly, passing the time. The grasses had grown long, Mickey noted, swishing against their legs as they moved through the fields. Might make running harder, but could also give them some cover if they needed it.

"I'm tellin' ya, Axel, you gotta get yourself some o' that girl 'for Job ruins 'er," Will/Bill was saying. "She don't say much, but that _ass-_"

"Can't you fuckin' think o' somethin' other than your goddamn dick?" Mickey growled, remembering the trembling girl in Jobs arms. She weren't no more than eighteen, just a kid.

_Fuck _this new world.

One of the men laughed, slinging his gun carelessly over his shoulders. "Easy for you t' say, Mickey. You bagged yourself the only hot piece of ass this side o' the river."

There were lecherous winks passed around, and Mickey felt like punching something.

"Woo-ee, 'aint that girl somethin'," Axel whistled. "How'd you get one like that? C'mon Mickey, take pity on us poor lonely fucks."

Mickey glowered angrily at all of them. "None o' your goddamn business. Maya 'aint-"

"Oh-ho, hear that boys, it's _Maya."_ Someone tittered, and Mickey ground his teeth, turning to scan for zombs. "I hear tell ol' Mickey is a one woman man now. 'Aint taken no other since she showed up."

There were amused hoots. "Her pussy that good? Hell, tell 'er to give me a call next time you 'aint round."

"I could show her a good time!"

"Fuck that, send her my way. I got some ideas for that mouth o' hers."

Mickey struggled to keep his temper, his voice low. "Any man dares put his hands on her, I'll fuckin' kill 'im. And that's a goddamn promise."

The men shifted uncomfortably, and quickly the talk turned to other things. Mickey tuned them out, falling into the routine of picking off any stray zombs coming up on them. They moved slow enough that usually the living could just pass through, but in his current mood, shooting a few seemed to help.

_Maya._

Just the thought of her was enough to calm the rage in his blood a bit. Why she was with him, he didn't know. Didn't care, as long as she kept coming back. Maybe Job was right, he was going soft. And he didn't give a shit if it meant he got to have Maya.

He couldn't get enough of her. She wasn't like the worn and dead eyed women back at the house, the ones who would fuck anyone if it meant a safe bed for the night. They were passed around the men like a piece of furniture, kept around purely for entertainment. No-one treated them like _people, _and it was fucking sickening.

He shuddered, seeing Job in his mind's eye and the young girl. A shivering lamb at the mercy of a rabid wolf.

But Maya weren't no lamb. Maya was a goddamn force of nature, keeping her group alive with one hand, taking out zombs with the other. Mickey had wanted to hate her at first, the way she walked into their lives and kicked ass, taking down one of the huge ones with only her rifle and an axe. Made him feel so damn…_inadequate _in the face of her fury. Job had joked about her, had crowed with the men wondering if the place between her legs was as ice cold as her heart.

But she weren't like that, never had been, Mickey knew now. Her heart was on goddamn _fire, _burning clean out of her chest with the loyalty for her group, the way she defended them. She weren't afraid to take on any assholes sniffing round her place, staring down zombs with nothing more than a sneer, and Mickey had started to begrudgingly admire her from afar.

When she came to him the first time, all soft curves and smooth skin, he hadn't believed it. Couldn't believe she was actually _there, _in his arms, her lips under his. Willing.

Women were afraid of him. Had been for as long as he could remember. Tough Mickey Wilkerson, always running his mouth and getting into fights. Didn't matter that he hadn't laid a hand on a woman like that, they avoided him. Curled their lips at him when he got too close in bars. The end of the world didn't change the way they saw him. The women at the house always seemed to cringe when he walked by, only a few tried to brave his temper and lie with him. But even they couldn't look him in the face, and furious, Mickey had never bed any of them, sick to the stomach at the thought they were closing their eyes and imagining someone else. Job was the smooth one, who said what they wanted to hear. Eli had been the harmless one, with his soft drawl that always had the ladies (and men) crooning. Mickey…Mickey was just the scary one who shouted too loud and swung his fists too much.

But Maya didn't seem him like that. She didn't care about his rough barking. She looked him straight in the eye, didn't do no cowering. She had scars, like him, knew how rough life could get but fought for it, like he had. When he touched her she reacted, arched beneath his fingers like she _wanted _him. She made him burn in a way no-other woman ever had.

Seeing her dancing with another man…Mickey had near tore his head off. No-man could ever think of _owning _a woman like Maya, but Mickey couldn't stop the possessive rage that rose in him at the sight of another man's grimy hands on her skin.

She was _his, _and Mickey didn't give a shit how bad it sounded. She was his and his _willingly. _Mickey wasn't his brother. He didn't have to fuck little girls who cried when he touched them. He had himself a woman, and one who kept coming back with a smile on her lips.

The rifle creaked in his tight knuckled grip.

Mickey would _kill_ to keep her.

* * *

"Well girl, you got yourself a problem."

Doc Hanson sighed, leaning back in his chair and tilting his cowboy hat back.

Maya rose from the makeshift stretcher, grabbing her pants. "You're telling me."

Maya had shooed everyone out of the infirmary citing "lady problems" for the reason of the doctor's visit. The men couldn't get out of there fast enough. Doc had given her another pregnancy test to take, and then examined her best as he could with his hands, not that there was much he could do.

"Can't say how far along you are, but it's still early days. Hard to tell without any equipment."

"Sounds about right," Maya said, shimmying into her pants.

Doc shook his head. "Just when I thought I'd seen it all, you women surprise me again. I don't have to tell you how stupid this all is do I? Havin' a baby in all…this?"

Maya snorted, doing up her clothing. "Can't tell me anything I haven't already told myself, Doc. Not like I planned this."

_The pregnancy at least, _she thought.

Doc sighed again, crossing his arms as he mulled it over.

"This is gonna be damn hard on your own, Maya. Is the Daddy-"

"It's Mickey Wilkerson," Maya said immediately, amused when the doctor spluttered.

"Mickey Wilkerson-!" The Doc pounded himself on the chest, heaving a breath. "You and that boy!?"

Maya crossed her arms defensively. "God knows he's not a boy anymore, Doc."

"I pulled that boy outta his mama, he'll always be a boy t' me." He looked at her with pitying eyes. "Did he…Jesus, Maya, did he force you?"

Maya shook her head, and Doc seemed to slouch with relief. "Thank God. I know that boy has a temper but Mickey 'aint like that."

Maya grabbed her boots, pulling one on. "What now? I have to admit Doc, I don't know a lot about pregnancy."

Doc sighed. "Well we're gonna have t' find you some prenatal vitamins. Gotta start eating more vegetables if you can find them, protein as well."

He frowned. "For now you're safe still doing runs but eventually you're gonna have to cut back on that too. No heavy lifting, running and o' course no fightin' zombs."

He watched Maya pull her other boot on. "Maya, I gotta know. Why Mickey?"

Maya shrugged. "Why not?"

The Doc made a rude noise. "Girl, I watched that boy grow up. What girls he got didn't stick 'round long, and he was always in trouble with that brother o' his. Now they're sittin' up there at the end of the world like thugs, runnin' a gang. I don't gotta tell you what type of women are livin' up there with 'em."

"Those women are just trying to survive like anyone else," Maya cut in sharply.

Doc sighed, shaking his head. "Point is, _why _in God's name did you pick up with that boy? Protection I can understand but you got a good group goin' here and you sure as hell don't need someone lookin' after you. There're plenty of fine upstandin' young men here. You're a pretty girl, you could'a had any of 'em."

Maya crossed her arms. "Could be upstanding just doesn't cut it these days, Doc. I've been keeping this group going since day one. What happens when I can't anymore? When I'm laid up in bed with a busted knee is a hoard going to come crashing through the window all because I wasn't out there with a rifle?"

Doc mulled that over. "So you shacked up with Mickey for protection o' a sort?"

"In a way," Maya smiled slightly. "But I think you and I know there's more to the Wilkersons than their reputation. Mickey can be…sweet."

Doc snorted. "If you say so, girly. Can't say I've seen it much myself."

He rose from the chair. "Well we're in it now. Assumin' all goes well with the pregnancy, that kid'll be armed to the teeth the minute it pops out."

Maya shuddered. "As long as there are no metal pointy things near my vagina _as_ it's coming out, I'm fine with that."

Doc barked a laugh, setting his hat back firmly on his head. "Alright then. I'll come out again in a week or two and we'll start settin' up regular check ups after that. Gotta find you some vitamins and things to keep you and the little 'un healthy. 'Fraid I can't do no scansto check development, but we'll make do."

He paused. "You'll tell 'em all soon, won't you? They worry 'bout you."

Maya nodded. "Soon. Just, not yet. I need some…time. I…I haven't told Mickey yet."

The old doctor's eyes softened momentarily. "It'll all be fine. Just don't push yourself too hard."

Maya saw him to the infirmary door with a laugh. "That's like saying the sun won't shine, Doc."

"Don't I know it." The living room was void of people, for which Maya was thankful. Sam appeared at the entrance hallway, giving Doc a smile.

"I take it you'll be wanting that ride home Doc?"

"Oh don't mind if I do. See you next week, Maya."

Maya nodded, watching the old doctor disappear out the door.

Lily poked her head out of the comm room, eyes aglow with curiosity.

"So what's the news? Are your lady bits going to fall off or something?"

Maya laughed. "Just a urinary tract infection, Lil. Nothing to worry about."

"Eww," the girl scrunched her nose, rapidly retreating back to her post. "Too much information."

"You love it you little gossip whore!" Maya shouted back, smiling as Lily shouted a "you know it!" back.

She'd tell them soon. Just…not yet.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes: This chapter didn't post for some reason? So I fixed it lol. Hopefully it makes more sense now!**

* * *

The sky rumbled ominously, and Maya cast a wary glance up at the purple swollen bellies of the clouds above. She was still out in the field, the supply run had taken her to the very outskirts of the farmland and up towards an old abandoned factory. Wasn't much left, but she scavenged some lumber and metal they could use back at the farmhouse. She didn't relish a hike home in the rain so had paused for a while, waiting to see if the skies opened or not.

But it was getting dark, and soon she wouldn't have a choice.

"Nothing for it," she muttered, voice echoing eerily in the empty factory. Her pack was heavy, pulling her shoulders uncomfortably, and she hitched it up as high as she could, trying to rest the weight on her hips. Rifle held in the crook of her arm, she stepped outside to a crack of lightning.

"Oh come on!" Maya snapped at the sky as she felt a few drops. "As soon as I leave? Really?"

Muttering, she ducked her head down and gritted her teeth, leaving the factory behind and heading into the more familiar farmland. Soon the few drops turned into a respectful downpour, and rivulets of water ran down Maya's face, forcing her to blink the water away and peer through the now un-seeable murk.

Despite the protest in her back, Maya got low, moving into a hunched crouch as she picked her way through the weeds. The ground became soggier at each step, and soon her boots were filling with water and squelching in the waterlogged dirt.

She paused every so often, swiveling her head to listen for any sounds, but she couldn't hear much beyond the steady roar of rain.

Uneasy, she pressed on, mindful of the edges of the fields where zombs liked to cluster. She knew her way around the farms easily, but she made sure to occasionally double back to check the fenceline to ensure she knew where she was. It added extra time to her journey but meant she wasn't wandering out into the dark with no idea where she was going.

A few blurry shapes cleaved through the rain as she travelled, but the zombs couldn't hear her either, so she passed by without incident. She kept a hand on her axe though, ready just in case-

A jagged bolt of lightning lit up the field, and Maya stifled a gasp as she dropped down. The light illuminated the field in a ghastly yellow glow, and it was the huge heaving figure at the center of it that had grabbed her attention.

_Juggernaut._

Spots danced in front of eyes from the sudden glare as she was plunged back into darkness, and Maya held her breath as she listened for the sound of the beast charging. Nothing, just the rain.

Maya stayed hidden in the grasses, thinking about her next move. It would be easy enough to slip by, but if another lightning flash caught her at the wrong moment, it would see her. Running away from a juggernaut in barely visible conditions sounded like a recipe for disaster.

She'd have to turn back. Re-trace her path to the fence and follow it up to the nearest farmhouse that way.

Maya backed up, staying low. As long as it stayed there, she could do it. As long as it-

A human voice rose above the rain. Maya froze, pressing herself down into the soggy earth like a startled rabbit. The juggernaut heard it too and the thing snuffled, its huge bulk crushing the grasses as it cast around for the source.

The voice came again, a laugh cracking over the rain. Maya raised her head, daring to peek above the grass as another bolt of lightning lit up the field.

The juggernaut was only a few paces away from her.

It zeroed in on her with tiny piggy eyes, a string of fetid drool dribbling down its quivering chins. It was huge, easily 7 feet tall, and round. The stained overalls were digging into its grey bloated flesh, threatening to pop it like a giant decaying balloon.

Maya wasn't even aware of how she moved so quickly. In one motion she had shrugged off her heavy pack and was on her feet. As the light died away she was off, legs pumping as the juggernaut roared. The rifle wouldn't help her here but she kept ahold of it anyways, the axe handle banging against her hip as she ran.

A fence post rose out of the rain, and she swung a sharp turn to her left, keeping the fence line in view on her right. To her surprise she didn't hear the tell-tale rumbling of the juggernaut charging, but she wasn't about to stop and check.

She could hear more voices, distant but moving towards her location. Judging by the lack of bellowing and stamping behind her, the juggernaut was more interested in them than it was in her. Seizing the distraction she rolled to her right, tumbling through the damp wooden slats of the fence. Though her muscles were burning she jogged, pushing herself up the slight incline until she got to the top.

Only then did she risk looking behind her. Slightly above the ground she could see through the rain a little, and spotted the flashes of light that signaled a group with flashlights. They were further out, more towards the swamp land, and she could see the huge bulk of the juggernaut moving towards them.

"They can't be that stupid," Maya muttered to herself, flicking water out of her eyes. "At least I _hope _they're not that stupid."

Whatever reason, the juggernaut steadily drew closer to them, and Maya didn't want to see what came next. She'd retrieve her pack in the morning and see what damage had been done then.

Without the heavy pack she moved quicker, now holding her axe in front of her. One zomb heard her coming and reached for her as she passed, skeletal fingers snagging in her sodden jacket. She sliced the arms at the elbow, congealed globules of black blood plopping to the ground with sickening squelches. Another blow to its already weak skull and it flopped to the ground, harmless.

Still, the stench of it made her pause, hands on her knees as she keeled over, dry heaving. Her heart was pounding, her head dizzy. She had pushed herself too hard, as Doc had warned. She took a few deep breaths and it passed.

The farmhouse was a welcome sight as she rounded the hill. She and Marcus had covered the windows on the inside with paper and old cloth, blocking out any light that might make them easier to see in the dark. Zombs were like moths to a flame when night fell, as the group out in the field would find out.

Her hands were shaking as she pushed the gate open, her teeth chattering. A figure in the guard tower peered down at her, swamped in an old parka.

"Forget your pack, Maya?" Ed called down.

Maya glowered up at him. "There's a juggernaut out in the field, Ed. Keep it down."

Miming zipping his lips shut, Ed withdrew.

The house was warm as she pushed inside and Maya sighed happily, shutting the door on the weather outside. A few people were gathered around a gas light, and Lily looked over as Maya kicked her sodden boots off.

"Maya! You…look like a drowned rat."

"I feel like one too," Maya said, leaning her wet rifle against the wall. "Ran into a juggernaut out in the field and had to hightail it home. I'll get the pack tomorrow."

Marcus was on his feet immediately. "A juggernaut?"

Maya waved him back down. "I slipped by. It's far enough out it shouldn't give us any trouble. I think there was another group out there though, heard some voices and lights. The fat bastard went after them instead."

Tyler frowned. "Funny you should mention that, I thought I heard some voices the other night when I was up the tower. They were pretty far away I think, but you know how sound carries."

Maya peeled her jacket off. "Something we need to worry about you think?"

Tyler shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Might be Sam's group for all we know. Or some of the Wilkerson's goons."

Lily frowned. "I don't like the thought of them lurking around here. What if they're scoping us out?"

"Tell you what," Maya interrupted before the fear mongering could get any worse. "In the morning I'll head over to Sam's and see if his group is alright. Might be he knows them."

"I'm coming with you," Marcus said firmly. "In case that juggernaut is still around."

Maya was too tired and wet to argue. "Fine. Now if you guys don't mind, I need to go get dry. Or…try to at least."

Lily giggled behind her hand. "Maybe by next season. You look like you went for a swim!"

Maya swatted at the girl, smiling. "Alright, next time _you_ go on a supply run in the rain and I'll stay here nice and dry. Sound fair?"

"Did I mention how beautiful you look today?" Lily wheedled, batting her eyes. "I was only joking when I said you looked like a drowned rat. Mostly."

Maya cast a long suffering look towards Marcus. "You see what I put up with? So much abuse!"

Marcus grinned. "You leave the brat to me, I'll sort her out."

Maya huffed, turning away. She didn't miss the small high five Marcus snuck Lily.

"I saw that you traitor!"


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings**: The usual, bad language and gore!

* * *

The pack was gone.

Maya frowned, glancing up and across the field towards where she had seen the lights before. The juggernaut lay in the middle of the field like a rotting beached whale, its meaty head completely obliterated.

"They must have taken it," Maya said grimly. "I'd put good money on the whole thing being organized."

Marcus glanced towards her. He was keeping watch, his pistol held up at the ready. "What, stealing your pack?"

"No, I mean the juggernaut." Maya dropped into a crouch, searching the still damp ground for bootprints. "They deliberately drew it towards them with the lights, then somehow took it out. If they're doing that, then they must live nearby, and they're experienced at that. Probably a lot of them too."

"You took out a juggernaut on your own," Marcus pointed out. "With just a rifle and an axe. Could be a few loners."

Maya shrugged. "Could be. But it took me a whole round to even get the damn creature to slow down, and I had the Wilkersons drawing its attention. This group…they attracted the juggernaut deliberately. I don't know why, but it makes me pretty damn nervous."

Marcus looked grim as Maya got to her feet. "Come on, let's head over to Sam's. He might have some answers for us."

Maya let him lead the way, bringing up the rear at a decent jog. The place Sam had holed up in wasn't far from their own farmhouse, but Maya had always questioned why the man had chosen the place. It was smack bang in the middle of where the hoards liked to pass through, and Maya had been out herself with the truck to clear them out for the small group too many times.

They cut through the orchard, and Maya snagged a few apples and dropped them into her pack. They had picked most of the trees and bushes clean, but a few late fruits still bloomed.

Marcus was uncharacteristically silent as he jogged, face brooding. Maya didn't push him for an explanation, last night had left her feeling uneasy too. A new group so close to home and with unknown motives, it didn't bode well.

There was a hoard in the distance cresting the hill, and Maya gave a low whistle to grab Marcus' attention. He spotted them, and muttered unhappily, picking up their pace. With luck they'd be out and doubling through the fields back towards home before the hoard even came close.

The barn was as dilapidated as Maya remembered it, a few zombs shuffling inside. Maya darted forward with her axe to dispatch them quietly as Marcus headed towards the house to make contact.

The first zomb was an old man, tottering and frail. Maya put him down, muscles twinging from her run yesterday.

The second was a plump brunette. Her jeans had ripped away baring pale bloated thighs, slick with black blood. Maya kicked the corpse's knees in first, bringing it down so she could decapitate it more easily. The head rolled across the mouldy straw, oozing blood. Maya watched in disinterestedly, turning towards the last.

Maya paused.

It had been a young girl, still dressed in a yellow sundress. She had once worn pigtails, but one had come undone and lay plastered against her cheek and neck, crusty and dark. One eye was missing, leaving a gaping dark socket that Maya didn't stare at too long, knowing what little critters would have nested there.

A little girl. Maybe like the one currently in Maya's belly.

She felt like throwing up. Maya breathed out slowly, raising her axe.

"I'm sorry," she said to it. "This shouldn't have happened to you."

The girl screeched, lunging. Maya swung like a golfer, separating the girl's lower jaw from her face. She then buried the blade between the girl's eyes as the corpse stumbled back, feeling the axe slide into the decomposing brain like hot butter.

Maya had separated herself from the killing a long time ago. But still she found herself hovering over the small body, wishing she could do…_something. _But she didn't know the words, and it would be a waste of effort to bury her. She retrieved the girl's jaw, kicking it back towards the body and covering her with a moldy burlap sack.

And that would have to do.

Marcus was already talking to Sam as she left the barn. Maya approached, wiping her axe clean.

"-ook who it is," She heard Sam say. "Our neighbors from down the way. Nice of you to drop in."

Maya climbed up the steps. "That's a heavy dose of sarcasm I hear in there, Sam."

Sam clammed up as he noticed her, suddenly getting twitchy. "The hell you expect? You come round here only to ask about some weird lights in a field?"

Maya narrowed her eyes at him. He looked like shit. Huge black circles drooped under his eyes, and he looked thinner than the last time she saw him. Sam was a nervous kind of guy, but even the amount of fidgeting he was doing was unusual for him, picking at his broken and dirty nails. Marcus noticed too.

"You alright man? You seem kinda…tense."

Sam laughed, and it was a bitter sound. "Do I? Can't think of why, it's not like there are dead people walking around, hillbillies breathing down my neck no thanks to _you,_" he shot towards Maya, "and now you're here talking about another group possibly settling in the area. How would you feel?"

How did she _feel? _She was tired, tired of being a soldier 24/7, always preparing for battle. There was now _another_ potential danger she'd have to plan for, how best to defend her group and keep them all alive. And her fingers now twitched with the ghost feeling of driving an axe into a little girl's head. She had been someone's daughter once. Maya might have one exactly like her.

Maya went from calm to furious in exactly a second.

"Fuck you!" she snapped, gratified as Sam flinched. "I didn't see you complaining when I saved your ass the first time, or any of the hundreds of other times! It's thanks to me you're still _breathing_! But by all means, piss me off. I'm sure you're perfectly capable of taking care of hoards and fending off the Wilkersons without me."

Marcus looked as shocked as Sam. "Maya-"

Maya held up a hand and he fell silent immediately. "We've done a lot for you, Sam. And in this shitty world, that means something. Scratch our back, we scratch yours_._ We stop helping you out and then what? You think you can make it out here with no help?"

Sam laughed, taking some of the wind out of her sails.

"So you think I owe you?" he challenged. "Is that how it is? Time to pay up the debts or else…what, Maya? What are you gonna do? Beat me up?"

Marcus cut in hurriedly, ever the peace-maker. "No-one's saying that, Sam. We're just concerned neighbours."

Sam snorted. "Concerned neighbours my ass. You're not here because you _care_, you're here to see how you can better keep your own group safe."

He pointed an accusing finger at her, apparently on a tirade that had been bottled up for a while. "And fuck you, Maya. Not all of us came into this fucked up world knowing how to survive. We try to get by the best we can. Not all of us can sit up there in your castle feeling safe."

Maya's temper flared. "We worked damn hard to make that farmhouse livable. No-one's going to pat you on the back and sympathize that your life is shitty. _All _our lives are shitty, Sam! You either fight for it, or you don't."

"I wonder if you told that other group the same thing. You know, the one who was slaughtered by one of those fat fucks." Sam spat, a globule of saliva narrowly missing Maya's boot. "Did you help them too, Maya? Or just leave them to get fucked over until you needed something?"

Maya took a step forward aggressively. "What do you want from me, Sam? I'm not fucking superwoman. I can't save everyone, and I shouldn't have to! They're not my responsibility!"

Marcus tried to get between them. "Guys, guys come on-"

"Three of my group dead!" Sam yelled, and there it was, there was the core of the problem. "And what did you do to stop it? _Nothing. _I don't owe you anything, Maya! You think I'm weak? Fuck, you're right. I'm a goddamn useless heap of shit who couldn't save my own people."

The sneer he gave her made her stomach turn. "But don't act like you're better than me. Coming down here and ordering me around."

Maya didn't know where this conversation was even going. She threw her hands up exasperatedly. "Sam I don't-"

"And who are you to judge me?" Sam ranted. "You're the one letting a fucking _Wilkerson _stick his dick in yo-"

Maya's fist was flying before her brain even caught up, crashing into Sam's jaw with a sickening crunch. Pain snapped up her arm, but she didn't care. In that moment she _hated _him.

"How _dare _you?" she hissed, back rigid and eyes flashing. Marcus was tense at her side. "The fuck you think you're doing, spewing shit like that?"

Her heart was pounding. Sam turned his face and spat blood, hand going to his jaw. There was something ugly in his eyes she recognized. Sam was a good man, but right now he was terrified, and fear in the hands of weak men was dangerous. It could start wars, genocides. She had seen that look plenty in Afghanistan; officers and soldiers alike who had just reached their breaking point.

Sam was at his, and he had decided to target her.

He was going to ruin everything.

Sam sneered at her, disgust in his face. "Seems like he's fucked a bit of that Wilkerson temper into you."

This wasn't the quiet timid man Maya had met a few weeks ago. Sam had been a good man, he had once told her. A man with a family, and a life, and a purpose. He had lost it all.

But he wasn't the only one. So he had lost people, who hadn't? Maya had lost plenty. Colton and Strand, lying dead in shallow water, their eyes staring at her accusingly as their life ebbed away through their ruined throats, swirling around her boots. She could have saved them had she been quicker, if she hadn't paused. Alan's wide eyed look over his shoulder as he finally realized why she had taken him out in the dead of night to a field. The tremor in his voice as he pleaded for his life, the steel in hers as she told him to look at the sky. She could have saved him, somehow. Could have found a cure, but Alan was an asshole, and a liability to the group. She lost no sleep over him, and what did that make her? What did she lose the minute she pulled that trigger? The moment she knew what was growing in her body, realizing she had doomed a life before it had ever begun. Doomed like the little girl in the barn, her brain caved in by Maya's hand.

Jesus, what was she? Was she like this twisted ghost of a man? A shadow of who she had once been?

"I don't know what you're fucking talking about," she said through gritted teeth. This isn't how she wanted everything to come out, Marcus wouldn't understand. "You're grieving, but I warn you Sam, shut your fucking mouth if you value your teeth."

She was strong, she could take a few barbs from a broken man. He couldn't hurt her more than this world already had.

He laughed, a terrible sounding thing. "You didn't even fight it did you? Bet you just fell on your knees _begging _for his cock, just as long as you got protection for your precious group-"

She had her hands around his neck before she could even process what he had said, thumbs digging into the grimy line of his throat. Anger pulsed behind her eyes, pounding furious fists against her skull. She slammed him up against the house, his head making a meaty thud as it collided.

"I'm going to give you all of five seconds to apologize," she said dangerously, feeling her careful mask of control slipping. "If you don't, I may do something terribly un-neighborly."

Sam choked in her grip but was too weak to push her off. He flailed uselessly at her shoulders.

"Fuck…you…_whore,"_ he managed through gasps.

It was just a word. Just a mess of letters that had no bearing on her, and yet, her body went cold. She dimly heard Marcus shouting something, but Maya couldn't understand him over the roaring in her ears. She released Sam. His eyes met hers, and a dark part of her thrilled as he realized what he had brought on himself, the whites of his eyes showing.

She fell on him with a ferocity that surprised even herself. His face blurred into a mess of red as she punched him, pouring weeks of pent-up anger and fear into every swing. Marcus was shouting, trying to grab her and wrestle her off.

But Maya was trained in the art of beating shit up. She twisted out of his clumsy grabs, going back to Sam again and again. She was going to make him pay, though all he had said was the truth.

Marcus grabbed her again, wrapping himself around her to try and pin her arms.

"Maya! Stop!" he bellowed in her ear. "He's had enough!"

But she hadn't. In her anger, Maya turned on Marcus, jabbing her elbow into his solar plexus. Winded, he released her with a gasp, and Maya went straight back to Sam, jamming her knee into his stomach as he keeled over, slamming her elbow down onto his unprotected spine.

She was going to kill him. The rational part of Maya studied that thought, curiously detached. The angry part of Maya simply snapped its teeth, gums itching to taste blood.

Hands like bands of iron cinched around her forearms, a chest bumping against her back. She was wrenched back, away from her target. She raged, twisting and kicking as she was dragged away, trying to push forward for every inch she was dragged back.

Marcus clung to the porch railing, breathing shakily and wide eyed as she was dragged past. Sam slumped against the house wall, a sticky trail of blood brightly smeared across the white slats.

Her assailant dragged her down the stairs, Maya's struggles kicking up clouds of dirt. A voice was speaking, and Maya could just about hear it over the din in her ears.

"-alm down, woman, Jesus-"

In a last burst of defiance, Maya played dirty, bending her leg at the knee and kicking up behind her. The kick wasn't quite true, she ended up catching the man on his inner thigh rather than the genitals, but he released her all the same with an indignant yelp.

She spun on him teeth bared, but in an instant her anger dissipated, leaving her disorientated and breathing hard.

Mickey had one hand towards her, his other cupping his groin protectively, face turned in a grimace. His rifle was over his shoulder, his usual red plaid present. "Easy there, hellcat. It's me."

Without the rush of blood in her ears, Maya could hear shots. Out in the field she could see a few men taking out the hoard she and Marcus had spotted earlier. Mickey and his crew must have stopped to clear them out and seen-

Maya glanced down at her hands. Her knuckles were bloody, spatters of blood dotting up to her elbows. Her stomach rolled and Maya turned, falling to her knees as she heaved, emptying her stomach into the dirt.

Mickey took a step towards her but Marcus was suddenly there, still bowed over clutching his stomach, but ready to defend.

"Stay away from her!" Marcus snapped, no more intimidating than an angry kitten.

Mickey frowned, but didn't approach. "The fuck goin' on here? Me and the boys were just passin' through whe-"

"None of your business," Marcus growled. Maya wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her limbs trembling. Painfully she got to her feet, feeling so cold. Her shirt was torn at the neck where Marcus had tried to grab her, the front of it splashed with red.

"I'm…I'm okay," she managed. "I…I just…I just…"

She didn't have words for what she just did. Mickey craned to look towards where Sam was slumped. His face grew hard.

"He do somethin'?" he asked gruffly. His eyes found Maya's, questioning. She shook her head.

"No I…I just lost my temper."

Mickey snorted. "Lost your temper? You were going to kill that sad fuck."

Marcus straightened, trying to puff out his chest in an intimidating way. Maya felt like laughing hysterically.

"We've got this under control now," he said loudly. "You can uh…leave."

Mickey crossed his arms. "Now why would I wanna do that? Not seen somethin' so funny for weeks."

His eyes still found Maya's though, and she saw what he really wanted to say.

_Are you alright? _

His crew was coming over, all arrogant swaggers and loud voices. Mickey glanced towards them, then back at Maya. The crew would expect Mickey to approach her, to stake his claim.

But Marcus was another matter. Mickey's group may know about her and Mickey, but Maya's certainly did not. And coward that she was, she wanted to keep it that way for a little while longer.

"I'm fine," she said outloud. She motioned towards his crew. "Thanks for the assistance. Don't let us keep you fine folk from your sport."

Mickey understood. He winked at her, hooking his thumbs into his belt. "Well alrighty then. You folks have a nice day. And if you _have _to go 'round beatin' the shit outta somethin', make sure it's one o' them dead ones yeah, sweetheart?"

He sauntered away, greeting his crew with guffaws and slaps on the backs. Some looked curiously towards Maya, but they followed him, disappearing off back into the field. Marcus waited until they were out of sight before doubling over again.

"God, Maya, you really know how to get a guy," he said, wincing. "One jab and I'm out."

He glowered darkly in the direction Mickey had gone. "What Sam said-"

"He's grieving," Maya interrupted him, tucking her aching hands up under her armpits. She was shaking. "I shouldn't have let it get to me like I did."

Sam was getting to his feet on the porch. Maya thanked a God she didn't believe in that she hadn't done any permanent damage. He looked even worse, one eye swollen, lip split and probably missing a few teeth.

She did that. She…she did _that. _To a human being.

She took an abortive step forward. "Sam I-"

"Leave," he managed through broken lips. "Just…just go."

Marcus was more than happy to oblige, limping towards the barn. Maya stayed where she was, standing tall.

"I'm sorry I did that to you. It was uncalled for," she said. "But in my defense, you were being an asshole."

Sam stared at her. Slowly, he smiled, and the smile morphed into a laugh, until they were both laughing at each other, bent over as each vibration sent new waves of pain through their bodies.

"Oh God," Sam gasped, clutching his belly. "I think I'm dying."

Maya wiped tears from her eyes. "You better not, you dumb fuck. Who else is going to be around for me to punch if you die?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm sorry Maya, I just fired my mouth off like a dick. You…you didn't deserve any of that."

Maya shrugged. "Maybe I did. I'm sorry about your folks. We have some extra rations of cereal bars we found the other day. I'll send a runner over. I know this is hard, Sam, but that's life now. You're a leader and you have to shoulder the heavy shit without falling apart at the seams."

Sam nodded. "Thanks. I think…I think I just lost it a bit there."

Maya glanced down at her hands. "You and me both. You hear anything about those lights in the field, you let us know yeah? We'll do the same. You're right, I've been a shitty neighbor. I can't promise you miracles, but I'll do what I can."

Sam leaned against the railing. "About what I said-"

"Forget it," Maya said quickly. "Whatever it is you've heard it's not-"

"It's not your fault," Sam said solemnly, eyes flicking in the same direction Marcus' had gone. "Whatever went down, I…I shouldn't have said those things. You're a strong woman, Maya. That fucker will get what's coming to him."

Sam went inside then, slowly and limping. Unnerved, Maya followed Marcus. She didn't know how Sam had even _known,_she thought she'd been careful but…

But now life was going to get that bit harder.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes: Sexy times, fluffy feelings, cursing. The usual you know. Not sure why some of my formatting is deleting, bah humbug, hopefully it's fixed now!**

* * *

Maya spread her hands on the table, looking down at her swollen knuckles. Patrick had helped her clean the scrapes but it would be a waste of good bandage to try and cover them so Maya had opted to just let them heal on their own in the open air.

Marcus was talking to Tyler and Gage, a few of the women close by and listening in. Their own Sam looked grim, arms crossed and jaw clenched. Maya couldn't hear what they were saying and didn't want to. No-one was meeting her eyes.

Maya curled her fingers into a fist, wincing at the shards of pain. Marcus had seemed shaken at seeing her lose it like that, and she couldn't exactly blame him. When was the last time she had lost control like that? Basic training? College? Hell, she couldn't even remember getting into fights like that in _high school._

She sighed. Seeing the little girl had rattled her. She'd been avoiding thinking about her pregnancy, had somehow managed to fool herself over the past week that it wasn't a big deal.

But it _was_. How could she overlook that? How could she forget what was exactly at stake?

She relaxed her hand, placing it back down onto the table. What was she supposed to do now? Pretend she hadn't lost the plot for a few seconds, and if it hadn't been for Mickey, she would have killed a man? How could her group look to her for guidance if she was cracking already?

Maybe they wouldn't. Marcus was the next best thing, and maybe this was really blessing in disguise. She just couldn't do this anymore. The fighting, the fear, the responsibility. There was too much on her shoulders and she was-God help her- going to be a _mother_. She needed to start-

"Maya?"

Startled out of her thoughts, Maya looked up. Lily stood awkwardly beside her. The young girl looked nervous, shuffling her feet. Maya managed a tired smile.

"Hey, Lil."

Lily took a step forward.

"Are…are you okay? I heard about…about Sam. The guy one I mean."

Maya sighed, shoulders drooping. "He was being a dick and I went a little overboard."

Lily cracked a weak smile at that. "You don't say."

Maya looked over towards the group huddled in the kitchen. "So what's the deal? Am I exiled from the group for being a basketcase?"

Lily looked horrified. "Maya, no! Of course not! Marcus said you were only reacting to what Sam said, we know you would never hurt one of us. We'd never do that to you."

Maya scrubbed a hand over her face. "Maybe you should. I really lost it out there, Lil. I don't…I don't know what came over me."

"I do," a voice said. Marcus had left the group, standing at the head of the table like a stern father. Maya tensed up.

"You've been working overtime recently. You're exhausted, and with this new group, we're all on edge."

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. "Maya, you know we're behind you. A lot of us owe you our lives. You're going to have bad days like the rest of us, and we'll still respect you. It's not like you attacked him out of nowhere, Sam was saying some messed up shit."

"And that's what we'd like to talk about," Briana took over, a few of the women shifting at her back. "What Sam said-"

"Was just talk," Maya cut in firmly. "He was hurting and he tried to hurt me back."

"Maya," Marcus said almost reproachfully. "You're telling me it's all just a coincidence that Sam triggers you like that and a few minutes later a Wilkerson shows up? You went white like a ghost when he grabbed you."

Hilda pushed through the crowd, sinking down into a chair and reaching for one of Maya's hands. "I know what its like to be afraid of a man. Of what they can _do. _But you don't have to be, Maya. We can protect you, like you protect us."

Maya almost laughed in her face. She bit down on her tongue to stifle it, drawing blood. Composing herself, she flashed a glare towards Marcus.

"Spit it out, Marcus. I'm too tired to try and decipher what it is you're hinting at."

The group exchanged sad looks. Lily reached out to rest a comforting hand on Maya's forearm. Maya's stomach twisted in her belly.

"Maya," Marcus said haltingly. "Did…has…goddammit. Have the Wilkersons been…harassing you?"

Maya stared at him. "They're a pain in my ass, sure, but that's no surprise. I'm not sure exactly what you're getting at."

She was getting to be such a good liar. Strand would have been proud.

Hilda crooned sadly in her throat, and Maya was getting the urge to punch someone again. "The men won't say it, but I will. Maya, have you been raped?"

Maya forgot how to breathe. All the air in her lungs just left her, fleeing into the suddenly spinning room. Her fingers hooked into claws against the wood.

"What?" she managed, trying to suck in some much needed air. "Why the fuck would you ask me that?"

Hilda looked up at Marcus as if her fears had been confirmed. "Oh sweetie. I'm…I'm so sorry."

Maya wrenched her arms back, crossing them firmly under her breasts as if she could hide behind them. "Whatever you guys are thinking, it's wrong. Cut that shit out now. I attacked Sam because he _pissed me off. _I don't know where he got all that shit from."

Lies lies lies. At what point was she going to stop? Why couldn't she just…_tell_ them? What was stopping her really?

Marcus looked furious. "Look me in the eyes and tell me Mickey Wilkerson has never laid a hand on you."

Her tongue felt stiff and unyielding in her mouth. The lie wouldn't come easily, and she was unwittingly proving every fear they had right. "He hasn't, not like th-"

"You're lying," Hilda shook her head. "Maya we _know _you're lying. It's okay you're safe here, we can-"

"You can't do anything!" Maya erupted, chair scraping across the linoleum with a screech as she stood. Hilda hurriedly retracted her outstretched hand. "Maya do this, Maya we need that, Maya I need you to _come save my ass._"

The room was deadly silent, a group of shocked and worried expressions reflected at her.

"You can't save anyone, especially yourselves!" Maya continued, trying furiously but failing to keep a lid on her anger as it seeped through the cracks in her armor. "So don't you go bleating to me about safety, or the fact that you can _help _me. You can't! I'm out there doing what I need to do to keep _everyone _safe."

She glared at Hilda. "I don't want to hear about this again. Do you hear me? You ever ask me a question like that again, and I'll….I'll…"

What would she do? Tell them the truth? That she was pregnant with a dead man's baby, that she had picked Mickey to replace him, to keep her and the baby safe. That maybe she was in too deep, that for all her planning she actually cared for him, and that scared her more than any zombie. That she wasn't ready to be a mother, especially in this fucked up world.

Maya turned abruptly. She needed to get out of here, away from their concerned and worried eyes. She needed…she just needed some _space. _Why couldn't they give her some space?

"Where are you going?" Lily called after her worriedly as Maya strode into the hallway.

Maya took her rifle and axe, grabbing a small bag with a few meager supplies.

"Out," she said curtly. "I just need…some air."

"Maya, no," Marcus was about to step into her space. "Please, let us help-"

"_Move,_" Maya growled. Something must have shown in her eyes that was desperate enough, because after studying her sadly for a minute, Marcus stepped aside, shoulders slumped.

Maya fled.

* * *

Mickey did one last sweep of the field with his rifle. It had been a fairly successful day zomb-wise, they had taken out two hoards who had been threatening their runners, a hunter, even a bloater that one of the boys spotted in the tree-line.

The group was heading back to the house, but Mickey found himself dragging his heels, throwing looks over his shoulder every few minutes as they trudged through the fields.

He was thinking of Maya.

It had been pure luck he had seen her when he did, they didn't often pass through the field by that old farmhouse. The group that lived there was small and weak, hardly worth their time, but Job had sent them down there to look for any extra lumber they may have missed. Finally the ornery fuck was realizing that Mickey was serious about the whole scavenging thing. Job hadn't pressed him beyond their one disagreement, but Mickey knew a storm was coming on that front. Job always did hold grudges.

The boys and him had been tracking a hoard when Mickey had heard the sounds of a fight. He had figured it was the small group and had swung by just to take a look when he had seen Maya. His heart near froze in his chest, seeing her familiar shape splattered with blood. Thinking she had run into one of the less friendly gangs Job was always dealing with, he had barreled in like an idiotic knight to save the princess from the dragon, only to find that actually, the princess was the one breathing fire.

The poor asshole she had been fighting hadn't stood much of a chance, and it didn't look like he tried. That other one, Marcus, she winded him with just a jab, and for a moment Mickey had been tempted to just stand there and watch. She was a spitfire, his Maya, and seeing her in action truly was a thing of beauty.

But it weren't no brawl he had stumbled on. Maya was out to kill, and the shithead she was beating weren't no zomb. Mickey intervened, and nearly got a foot to the balls for it. When she had looked at him it was if she didn't see him, her eyes were so glazed. It was then Mickey worried. Maya never lost her cool.

Marcus was a pain in the ass, after that. But Maya seemed to come to it some, and reluctantly, Mickey had left her to it. Wouldn't do her any good to make a scene in front of Marcus, and Mickey didn't want to make her life any harder than it already was. Just 'cause everyone up at the Barrett place knew he and Maya were fucking, didn't mean everyone in Maya's group did.

Mickey frowned, giving himself a little shake to focus on the present. They were entering a small wooded area now, and wouldn't do no-one any good if he got bit by a zomb hiding behind a tree, too busy daydreaming to pay attention. Later he'd try and do a patrol near Maya's place, maybe call her out and see if everything was oka-

A low whistle came from a bush to his left, and Mickey immediately paused. He replied cautiously with one of his own, and it answered with a series of hoots.

Grinning, Mickey cupped a hand to his mouth and hollered at the backs of the retreating men. "I'm 'a do one last sweep!"

One man replied but they were moving away and heard to hear. The others laughed, but they waved back at Mickey to say they understood. Half-hearted, Mickey flipped them off, turning and ducking into the dense cover of the trees.

"We gotta work on that call sign o' ours darlin', it 'aint so secret if the boys know i-mph!"

She was on him without warning, her lips desperate as they bit at his lips. Her hands fumbled with his belt, the metal clicking in the silence around them.

"Woah, now," Mickey pulled away, even as Maya grabbed his head, pressing kisses along his jaw. "What's the-"

"Please," she murmured against his cheek, leaning up to nuzzle into his neck, not caring at the day's sweat that must have settled on his skin. "Please just…just…make me forget."

Her cheek was wet against his, and Mickey abruptly reared back, grabbing her chin to tilt her face towards him.

It damn near broke his heart. Tears streaked down her face, unchecked, her eyes desperate as they looked up at him. He rubbed a thumb along her cheekbone, trying to wipe away the moisture.

"Hey now," he murmured. "You're alright. I got you."

She pulled away from him, leaving him clutching air as she wrapped her arms around her body.

"I can't do this," she said brokenly, the tears coming harder. "I can't…oh God, Mickey I _can't do this._"

Something cold settled in his chest. He watched her as she crumpled in on herself, shoulders shuddering with each ragged gasp.

"I thought I could, I thought I was strong but….it's too much! How am I supposed to…how could…."

She wiped a hand across her eyes. "They're _dead_. I'm here but they're dead and I can't…"

Mickey tried to square his shoulders. He had known this thing he had with Maya had been too good to be true. No woman like her would be with him because she _wanted _to. Jesus, Job had been right.

"I'm not forcin' you to stay," he said, harsher than he intended, and she turned those beautiful eyes on him. "You're a free woman, Maya."

Maya stared at him. God but she was gorgeous, even with tears in her eyes, down her cheeks, her nose all red from scrubbing. Her dark hair was pulled out of her usual bun into scraggly wisps, making her look like a witch of the woods. Mickey would miss that, carding his fingers through that hair, pressing his lips to that sensitive spot behind her ear that made her giggle like a kid.

"I…what?"

Mickey gritted his jaw. "I'm not an idiot. 'Course you had someone 'fore all this shit went down. I know I'm…I'm just fillin' some other man's place."

Unable to look at her, Mickey averted his eyes to the trees around them. "Marcus seein' me with you today….made it real, I get it. You don't want him knowin'. Better just quit while the goin' is good, yeah? I _get it_, Maya."

She stepped in close but he still didn't look at her. Didn't trust himself to be able to let her go if he got another look at her face.

A trembling hand reached out, touching his bristly cheek. "You…you don't want me?"

"Christ," Mickey groaned, reaching up to grab her hand in his. He couldn't help but look at her again. "It's not a matter of _wantin', _Maya. You know I'm hot for ya. Don't think that'll ever change. But…you, me…it was just a matter of time weren't it?"

She looked unbearably fragile, so unlike the strong independent woman he had gotten to know. A strong breeze could bowl her over in the state she was in. He fought the urge to gather her in his arms. He was a _Wilkerson _goddammit, not some lovesick pup still wet behind the ears-

"I…I..." she swallowed heavily. "I'm pregnant, Mickey."

Mickey stared at her, frozen in place. He must've heard wrong…she…she wasn't…

She pulled her hand gently from his, running it over her face. "I don't know how in the hell I'm going to do this. I'm…I'm _scared_. Terrified even. I thought I could do this, just…grin and bear it like the good little soldier I've always been but…I can't."

She dropped her arm, looking at him with pleading eyes. "I nearly killed a man today, for no other reason than I was fed up and angry. I...I killed a little girl today. She wasn't a little girl I know, not really but...seeing her suddenly made all this..._real._"

Maya laughed bitterly. "I've been killing zombies for weeks, and suddenly one little dead girl makes me stop and realize that these were all _people. _Every one of them was a person at some point and I've just...been killing them without a thought. She was...she was someone's daughter and I put her down like a rabid dog."

She shook her head. "What if she had been my daughter? What if...what if that's what happens? Could I do it then? Kill my own child? What kind of monster am I becoming, Mickey?"

Mickey couldn't make his voice work. He moved his lips but nothing came out.

"I…I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner," Maya continued quietly. "I just…I thought there was more time. I had these _plans _and they all just…"

She shrugged helplessly, dropping her eyes to her boots. "I'm sorry. I can't do this alone. if you don't want this, don't want…_us_, I understand. I won't…I won't ask for anything."

Mickey forced himself to move, to take a step forward. "You're-"

He couldn't even say it. Couldn't wrap his head around it, though of _course _she was, of course. They had been screwing enough for it, and been lackluster about any sort of protection. Just because the world went to shit didn't mean nature took a break with it. God, they had been _stupid._

Miserably, Maya stared at her feet, wrapping her arms around herself.

Mickey had never really thought of kids. Wasn't something he thought he could ever have, not living the way he did. He had raised his brothers because their parents were too drunk or busy screaming at each other to care, and Mickey had long ago decided he'd probably be just as shit at parenting as they were. Hell, look at how Job turned out. And Eli was dead. Not a whole lot to brag about there. Whatever pitiful thing the Wilkersons were, it definitely hadn't been a family.

Family_._ Oh Jesus, a _baby. _A baby with Maya. _His _baby.

Mickey's heart felt like a jackhammer, pounding against his ribs, the vibrations shuddering from his head to his toes.

Maya took a deep shuddering breath. "How am I supposed to keep something like this safe? How…how can I raise a baby in a world like this? Is…is there even any point in trying?"

That didn't sound like the woman Mickey knew. Feeling a little shaky himself, Mickey stepped up into her space. She didn't shy away, or even flinch as he pressed a palm to her belly, spreading his fingers across her abdomen. His hand looked so large on her smaller frame, fingers brushing against her ribs. He curled his fingers against her shirt, probing the skin beneath, trying to imagine the life flickering beyond his fingertips.

He tried to imagine it, what it might look like. What Maya would look like in a few months, her belly all swollen and full. Full of _him. _Life they had somehow managed to make together, even surrounded by so much death.

Maya withstood his touch, though he could feel the slight tremor in her muscles.

"Say something," she whispered, and he felt the jump of her muscles under his hand, the tensing. "Anything. Yell at me, Mickey, tell me what a stupid bitch I am, just…just say so-"

"Mine." The voice that shuddered out of his throat sounded more animal than man, but Mickey pushed on, uncaring. "It's mine."

Maya looked devastated, shoulders slumped. "Mickey, I-"

With a growl, Mickey pulled her up against him, tucking her under his chin like a protective dog. She trembled in his arms, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt.

"Mine," he repeated, possessively. His brain was still a mess of thoughts, but that much was clear. Maya was _his. _The baby in her belly was his too.

"Mickey," she protested without any real heat, her breath warm against his collarbone, "It's not-"

He tightened his arms around her, uncaring of the awkward angle of the rifle at her back. "It's _mine_."

Maya tensed for a moment, before sagging against him. Her arms tentatively wound around his neck, and she pressed her face up against the skin of his throat.

"Yes," she sighed, the tension leaving her limbs as she surrendered to him. "It's yours."

With a wounded sound, Mickey shifted her so he could kiss her properly, open-mouthed and desperate. He dug fingers into her wild hair, pulling even more strands free of the messy bun but neither seemed to care. Her eyes were still wet, and he babbled words at her, pressing his lips to her cheeks and nose as he tried to kiss her sadness away.

"I'll take care of you, Maya. _Both_ of you."

Her lips quirked in a tentative smile and he pulled a chuckle out of her. He rambled on. "I'll keep you safe, and kill any fucker who tries to take you from me. Zomb, human, I don't fuckin' care. I'll kill them all."

It was the closest thing to an admission of love he could give her, and Mickey meant it. She deserved better than him, but he would do right by her. Would do anything and everything in his power to keep her safe.

She was still crying, but there was a smile on her lips as she kissed him back. "How can you promise me something like that? Even a scary Wilkerson can't take on the whole damn world."

He bared his teeth playfully. "Watch me."

She laughed then, and the worries and fears crowding Mickey's mind subsided. "I believe you. Let's hope it never comes to that."

The smile faltered. "I'm still scared."

Mickey kissed the bridge of her nose, making sure to rub his growing beard along her cheekbone in the way that never failed to make her laugh. "I'd be worried if you weren't, darlin'. I'm scared shitless. Hell, I'm not even sure this has sunk in yet, and when it does, I'll probably be a fuckin' wreck."

He rested his forehead against hers. "But say you'll stay. That you 'aint tired o' this ol' dog yet."

Maya looked up at him seriously, her dark eyes glittering. "You've got plenty of tricks in you yet, and I'd like to see them. I'm in, if you're in."

Mickey spun her then, laughing. She latched onto his shoulders with a yelp as he lifted her. "Oh I'm in, darlin'. _All_ in."

* * *

Considering what a clusterfuck the day had started off with, the ending of it was much more pleasant.

Maya looked up with hooded eyes as Mickey bent over her, braced on one hand. He couldn't drag his eyes away from the movements of his hips into hers, his fingers constantly running over her belly as if envisioning what lay within.

The bed beneath them creaked with their movements, but the house was otherwise silent. It had been cleared out a few days ago by Maya's own group, the screamers who had taken up residence still rotting away in the living room. It wasn't the most romantic of places, but after the two of them had managed to come to grips with the magnitude of what Maya had revealed it seemed Mickey had been desperate to claim her, as if that would somehow keep her tied to him. Maya didn't argue, the familiar fire already building between her thighs as he dragged her out of the forest towards the dilapidated building.

They had barely made it inside the house, his shirt already shucked off and her hands working his jeans. Both of them had nearly gone sprawling over a zomb corpse but even that hadn't been enough to slake their desires.

The bed was still in decent shape, if not looked at too closely. There was a suspicious red stain crusted into the covers, but they studiously avoided it, kicking the sheets to the floor. Maya had been too absorbed in the feeling of his skin on hers to worry about what might have happened to the previous occupants of the bed.

He slid into her as if he belonged inside her, and Maya had welcomed him, wrapping her legs around his hips and moving with him. She felt raw and open, too vulnerable from her confessions of doubt and weakness, but Mickey made her feel strong again. After leaving the group at the farmhouse she had just been wandering in a panicked stupor, seeing all her careful plans trickling away as fear replaced them. That had been a mistake, to panic like that. She wouldn't let that happen again. Couldn't afford to.

But Mickey had surprised her. She had expected…anger. An explosive reaction of some sort, something that lived up to his name. She had even been about to confess it to him, that it wasn't his, that everything had just been a horrible mistake but…he had denied her that too. And honestly, she was glad.

Mickey had claimed them both. She was his, and he was hers. Whoever this baby had once belonged to, it was Mickey's now, and Maya was at peace with that. Ghosts could not comfort her, could not offer her child protection and safety. But Mickey could, and would.

As Mickey drove into her, bending down to kiss her lips, claiming her from the inside out, Maya shut her eyes and said a silent final goodbye to her once loves, banishing them forever. For better or for worse, Maya had chosen Mickey.

And with Mickey, she would stay.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes: Fluffy fluffness, aww yiss.**

* * *

Maya listened to the beat of Mickey's heart, trailing her fingers gently up and down the swell of his ribs. When she had been a very young girl, her father had held her like this, pillowed close to his chest in bed as he had read her stories of talking animals and impossible adventures. She would snuggle close and pretend to listen, but most of the time she had been borrowing the quiet strength of her father's heart, following the steady pace with her mind like a marcher to the beat of a drum. Ironic, that the thing she had taken so much comfort in had been the thing to fail her father, sending him keeling over in the driver's seat of the family car. Such a fragile thing, in the end.

Now a pulse was the only thing that separated them from the horrors of the new world. So easily extinguished, but still it bravely marched on, refusing to give up. Maya listened to Mickey's, feeling the same sense of calm she once had as a girl.

Mickey toyed with her hair lazily with one hand. The other rested protectively on her hip, keeping her pressed up close against him.

"You ever think o' kids? Before?"

Maya dragged her thoughts away from her musings. "No, not really. I was too busy. I loved my job and dedicated my life to it."

Mickey lifted one long tendril between his fingers. "Army brat?"

Maya snorted. "It wasn't something I was born into. My folks had dreams of me being a doctor, or a lawyer. Someone to change the world. When I told my mom I was going to join the army, she threatened to lock me in my room until I changed my mind. She wanted me to be anything but another body for Uncle Sam to sacrifice in his wars."

Mickey chuckled. "But you were stubborn."

"But I was stubborn," Maya conceded. "Wanted to be an officer, prove that I could do things bigger and better than a bunch of jarheads. Show them that women were just as powerful and capable as the men. Training didn't leave me much time for a social life."

"I don't doubt it," Mickey shifted beneath her slightly. "But there must a' been somethin' else."

Maya thought about it. "I had a cat. Bartholomeow. I left him with my friend when I came out here camping."

Mickey smiled, running a finger down the shell of her ear. "Was always more o' a dog person myself."

"Cat's are great," Maya argued, arching under his touch. "Every night I'd come home bone tired from training and he was just _there. _Didn't demand to be walked, or want to play, he just sat himself down on my lap and purred like a motor."

She sobered, frowning. "I guess he's dead now."

"Hey now," Mickey jerked his shoulder to give her a little shake. "Might not be. If the cat is anythin' like his owner, he's killed himself a couple hundred zombs and found a nice she-cat to settle down with."

Maya smiled at the thought. "I hope so."

The hand at her hip squeezed lightly. "What about your folks? Got brothers? Sisters?"

Maya shook her head, a pang of sadness lancing her chest. "No. My dad passed away when I was a teenager. Heart attack. It was just mom and me for years, then she was living in a care home upstate. I'm not fooling myself in thinking she's still alive. It's probably a kindness, she was…different after my dad died. I just hope she went quickly."

Mickey was quiet. "M' sorry."

Maya raised her head to look at him, resting her chin on his chest. The hair on his chest was dark, tickling her skin. "It's old history now. What about you? I know Job, but there's gotta be something else to the Wilkerson brothers besides moonshine and shooting."

Mickey sighed, looking up at the bedroom ceiling. "Naw. What you see is what you get. 'Aint no mystery to us, we're just fuckin' assholes."

Maya rolled off him, stretching her arms above her head. There was a satisfying crack in her back.

"Assholes or not, I think there's more to you than that," she teased, raking her fingers through her knotted hair. "Face it Mickey boy, you've got a soft gooey center beneath that hard hillbilly exterior."

Mickey shook his head, sitting up on his elbows. "Didn't have nothin' gooey 'bout me 'til you came around. You're some sorta devil woman, puttin' that in me."

"Devil woman?" Maya laughed. "If only. Maybe I could do something about those shambling corpses in that case. Abracadabra, poof! The world is normal again."

Mickey huffed, flopping back down. Maya gave him a gentle pinch to the side.

"And you avoided my question. Spill some dirty secrets, Wilkerson. Should I be worried about any old lady loves coming to scratch my eyes out?"

Mickey gave her a look. "Naw. Can't say bein' a Wilkerson gets you much lovin'. Eli was the cute one and he…well he didn't much care for the ladies."

"Huh," Maya leaned back down onto his chest, chin in her hand. "I thought chicks dug that whole bad boy thing."

"Only now, 'cause the world went to shit," Mickey pushed her hair away from her face. "Back then we were just hillbilly fucks who drank too much and liked firin' guns."

Maya looked at him incredulously, and he rolled his eyes, reaching out to give her nose a tweak.

"I know what folks say 'bout me and mine. Job was always runnin' some scheme, getting' money on the down low. My daddy was a drunk with a mean right hook who didn't care who he was hittin', just as long as he was hittin' somethin'. My mama up and died 'cause of him, and I was always in fights, gettin' in trouble with the law."

Mickey shrugged. "Weren't like we was workin' with much to begin with. My daddy drinkin' himself to death was the best thing that ever happened to us. Weren't never no hope for us to be somethin'…better."

Intrigued, Maya wriggled closer. "Well, what would you have done if you hadn't been a Wilkerson?"

Mickey eyed her. "You're gonna laugh."

"Try me."

Embarrassed, Mickey avoided her eyes. "Wanted to be a cop when I was a boy. Somethin' about that uniform just…made me want it somethin' fierce. Wearin' it meant folks respected you."

Maya smiled . "I think you would've made a pretty good cop. Rocked that whole country boy thing."

"Yeah?" Mickey chuckled, stroking her cheek.

"Yeah. Plus I have a thing for men in uniform."

Mickey outright laughed pulling her in for a kiss. "Well fuck, I say we go raid the sheriff's place right now. I know he got a pair of handcuffs itchin' for those dainty wrists o' yours."

Maya melted into him with a laugh. "Whatever you say, _officer_."

They lay entwined for a long moment. Maya enjoyed the quiet, but knew that they could only skirt around the elephant in the room for so long. Outside, she heard a faint screamer call, another reminder that the world wouldn't wait for her.

"What should we do, Mickey?" she asked quietly. "My group doesn't know about…_this_, and I don't have any idea as to how to even bring it up. They're all on edge with this new group moving in. I'm worried they'll freak out."

Mickey sighed. "I don't rightly know, darlin'. 'Aint like I know much about this stuff. That Marcus fella looked like he wanted to bash my brains in today and that was _without _knowin' I've put my grubby mitts all over ya."

Maya thought back to Sam's angry words. "Sam seemed to know a fair bit though. Where the hell did he get all that from?"

"Probably one o' the boys. None o' the fuckers can keep their mouths shut."

Maya mulled that over. "It might seem cowardly, but I don't want to tell them yet. I want to get this new group scoped out first, determine what we're dealing with. If there's nothing to worry about, then I'll put on my big girl pants and face the music."

"And if there _is _somethin' to worry about?"

"Then we deal with that first." She looked at him seriously. "We do this step by step. Otherwise I think it's just too…daunting."

Mickey nodded. "I'll follow your lead. Like hell I'm tellin' any o' my people anyways. Fuckin' blabbermouths the lot of 'em, and Job'll skin me alive."

Maya sat up, frowning. She hadn't even thought of Job, of what kind of problems he could cause. "Will he be a problem? Should I-"

"Easy," Mickey shushed her, touching her shoulder. "You let me deal with Job. I want _you _to take it easy. No runnin' any risks you don't gotta. Stay safe. _Both _of you. We'll deal with every other fucker when we have to."

Maya relaxed slightly. "I can't promise anything. You know me."

Mickey grasped her chin, pulling her back down for a chaste kiss. "I'm beginnin' to. You gonna be okay with your group?"

"I'll have to be. I have some apologies to make and rumors to dispel, but I think it's doable."

She sat up, casting around for her discarded clothes. "We're going to need a more reliable way of communicating than just whistling when we spot each other."

Mickey watched her as she got up from the bed. She didn't care about being naked in front of him, bending over to grab her shirt and pants.

"Could try a few code words or phrases over the radio. Somethin' like 'gas station all clear' means we meet there."

Maya found her bra dangling over the lampshade. She clasped it around her waist, shimmying it around and up to cover her breasts. "More reasonable than my first thought of super spy names. 'Eagle One to Sniper Tex, all clear for some hanky panky'."

Mickey laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a horribly endearing way. His beard was growing in, making him look older but Maya found she liked it. She dug the mountain man look. "Can use that too. Might raise some questions, but I'm up fer it."

Maya arched her eyebrow at him pointedly, wriggling into her pants. "You're always up for it."

"Damn straight," Mickey preened. "Now why don't you shake those hips over this way and let me show ya."

Maya laughed as he leaned out to snag her wrist, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to pull her between them.

"We're in this mess partly _because _of that," she scolded him as he wrapped his arms around her hips, burying his nose into her belly. She carded a hand through his hair despite her protests. "We need to be more careful. At least until I tell my group."

Mickey pulled away to look up at her. "About us, or the baby?"

_Us. _Maya couldn't help the thrill that raced up her spine at those words. There was an _us. _"Both. Somehow I think it's the _us _part that will be the hardest for them to swallow."

Mickey shrugged, leaning back into her belly. His breath against her bare skin made her toes curl. "We'll make 'em."

He pressed an ear to her skin, as if listening. "So when do you get fat?"

With a squawk, Maya slapped at his shoulders. "Excuse me! I won't get _fat! _Just…plump. I guess."

Mickey grinned wolfishly, kissing her belly. "Fat, plump. You'll be rounder than a Chistmas ham." He pressed a hand where his cheek had been. "When will I be able to feel it move?"

Maya's heart melted a little bit at his hopeful expression. "I don't know. I guess that's something we'll have to ask Doc Hansen. He knows a hell of a lot more than me."

Mickey huffed, but nodded. "Right. Steps."

"Steps," Maya agreed. "This is a lot to take in. I'm…I guess I want to thank you, Mickey."

He looked surprised. "For knockin' you up?"

She gave his chin a half-hearted flick. "For being…you. I feel like we can actually do this, now. Together."

He rose, naked and uncaring. "We can, Maya. We will."

She let him kiss her, but laughed as he subtly tried to inch her back towards the bed. "No more of that. I need to get back, and you need to put on some pants."

Grumbling, Mickey released her, stooping to pick up his jeans. Maya finished getting herself dressed, checking her rifle and axe.

"Are you goin' to be okay?"

She turned at the question. Half-dressed, Mickey looked wild. His hair stuck out at all angles, a victim of her passionate tugs, his neck and chest littered with marks and love bites. His jeans were sliding off one hip, his belt still missing somewhere on the floor. Smiling, Maya bent to grab his shirt, beckoning him forward.

"I know I was a mess today, but yeah. I'm going to be okay."

She helped him slide the shirt on, buttoning up the front for him. "Sometimes I guess you just have to reach rock bottom to come back up."

Mickey slid his hands up to envelop hers. "You're a goddamn strong woman, Maya. But there 'aint no shame in bein' weak from time to time. You'll come to me, yeah? If things get rough?"

Maya studied his face for a long moment. "Only if you'll do the same."

He looked caught out, but recovered, smirking. "I'm a Wilkerson, baby."

She rose up on her toes to kiss him gently. "Exactly."

He looked confused, but didn't question her further as she turned to grab her pack and weapons. He did the same, slinging his trusty rifle over his shoulder.

"So we agree on the code word thing."

She laughed. "Yeah. It'll take some working out, but I think it's a good way of doing it."

Mickey bent and gestured towards the door. "Then after you, Eagle One."

Maya fluttered her eyes at him as she sauntered by. "Such a gentleman, Sniper Tex."

The house echoed with their joint laughter.

* * *

"Have you heard from her yet?"

Marcus turned away from the book he had been reading to look irritably at Lily hovering behind him.

"Lil, for the hundredth time, _no,_" he growled. "You'll be the first person I tell if she calls in."

Lily wrung her hands worriedly. "I'm sorry I…I'm just worried. I've never seen Maya like that."

Marcus sighed, setting his book down and rubbing his temples. Truth was he had barely been able to read any of the words, his mind was elsewhere. "I know, Lil. Me too. But us running out after her will probably only make her angrier. We gotta let Maya come to us in her own time."

Hilda glanced over from where she had been scrubbing some dirty dishes. "I shouldn't have pushed her so hard. I just…I wanted her to know that some of us have _been there, _you know?"

"It's not your fault, Hilda," Marcus said wearily. "Maya's under a lot of strain. And despite what we might think, she's right. Her life is her own and we don't have a right to butt our noses in."

Lily swallowed. "Even if-"

"Maya's coming!" Tyler burst through the front door, boots clomping on the hardwood floor. "She's coming back!"

Marcus' chair nearly clattered over in his haste to stand. "Now? Where is she?"

Tyler looked like he had been running. He bent over, breathing hard. "Saw her when I was over at the barn fixing some panels. Coming up through the orchard."

"Is she okay?" Lily asked. "Does she look mad?"

"Does who look mad?"

Everyone froze.

Maya strode through the open door, dropping her pack off by the drawers the group used as storage. She looked…fine. She secured her weapons, turning to look at the group with hands on her hips.

"Yeesh, guys, I'm not going to bite anyone. Relax."

Lily looked close to tears. "We're sorry Maya, we didn't mean to make you angry or anything-"

"Hey, it's okay, Lil," Maya said soothingly. "I shouldn't have stormed out like that. I'm sorry for that, and for saying the things I did. Today has been...kind of shitty. But that's no excuse for taking it out on you. I'm sorry."

The group looked at each other warily. Hilda cleared her throat first.

"I'm sorry too, Maya. We just…we worry about you."

Maya smiled, and everyone relaxed a fraction. "I know. I worry about you guys too."

"You were right though, Maya," Marcus said. The normally stoic man was shifting from foot to foot. "You've been doing a lot for us, and we haven't exactly been returning the favor. You do more than enough, it's about time we helped carry the load."

Lily cringed as if expecting another angry outburst, but Maya just nodded. "Thanks, Marcus. I think that would help a lot, at least with runs."

Hilda wrung her hands. "Maya, about what I said-"

"It's okay, Hilda," Maya cut her off. "But I meant it when I said I don't want to talk. If I run into problems, you guys will be the first to know. I know I can count on you. I just…sometimes there are things I need to sort out on my own too."

Maya nodded towards the kitchen. "And now I'm feeling all awkward. What's Patrick got in store for us tonight?"

The group all knew there was more to it than Maya was letting on, but there was nothing for it but to let it go. If Maya said she could handle it, she could.

The group filtered towards the kitchen, talking in subdued voices. Marcus remained, touching Maya lightly on the arm.

"Just so you know, I got your back," he said quietly. "I mean it."

Maya reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "I know, Marcus. And I appreciate that beyond what I can put into words."

Side by side they started for the kitchen.

"It's weird isn't it?"

Maya frowned. "What is?"

"This, I guess," Marcus gestured to the small group gathered in front of a hassled looking Patrick by the stove. "Us. Few weeks ago I was just a small town guy, out camping with my best friend. That's what all of us were, really. Normal people."

He glanced at her. "But not you."

Maya shoved him playfully. "I'm not normal?"

"How could you be?" Marcus shook his head. "And I mean that in the highest respectful way possible. Not just anyone can jump feet first into the end of the world and come out on top. Sam had that much right at least, we _are _sitting pretty up here. Thanks to you."

Maya scowled half-heartedly. "It was a joint effort, Marcus. We've _all _poured our sweat and tears into this place."

"But no blood."

Patrick was brandishing a ladle, trying to fend off the hungry onlookers looming over what looked like a freshly made pie.

Marcus touched her elbow. "And I thank God for that every day. We haven't lost a soul."

"Didn't think you were a religious man."

"I'm not, but with the dead walking around…I have to wonder."

Lily had managed to sneak past Patrick's defenses, stealing a piece of pie crust to the encouraging hoots of the others. Maya sighed.

"How long do you think we'll have to play at being heroes, Marcus?"

The man snorted. "I guess for as long as this hell lasts. I'm pretending to be something I'm not, and it gets harder every day."

Maya sighed. "Sounds familiar. It's not like I _enjoy _being a soldier all the time. That's not why I joined the army."

"So why did you? Apart from it being a natural outlet for your awesome kickassery."

Lily was trying to run away from Patrick's ladle but Tyler got in her way, grabbing for the prized piece of pie clutched in her fingers. What followed was a sadly outmatched scuffle until Hilda waded in, elbows at the ready.

Maya chuckled, crossing her arms as she watched it all unfold. "Flatterer. I think I joined because of this. Preserving a way of life. A better life."

"For who?"

Maya shrugged. "Everyone. Anyone. It sounds a lot more selfless than it is. I just knew I wouldn't have the usual white picket fence, 2.5 children and a dog. It just…didn't sit right when I tried to imagine myself doing it. Can you imagine me in a pantsuit running to the office in my soccer-mom van?"

Marcus made a considering noise. "Depends. Bet you could rock a pantsuit."

Maya shoved him again. "Shut up. I guess I just wanted to get _away _from a normal life. And now…man, what I wouldn't give for that pantsuit."

Hilda had managed to elbow Tyler away and victorious, Lily stuffed the pie crust into her mouth midst happy groans. She offered the last piece to Hilda who swallowed it down in one gulp before Tyler could get it.

"I understand. I find myself thinking back to all the little things that used to annoy me. Traffic jams. Loud people on phones. That crazy asshole who used to stand on the corner of the street and talk to aliens."

Marcus shook his head with a sigh. "Now I would give _anything to _have those back."

"Do you think it's possible?" Maya asked, watching as Lily did a victory dance with Hilda. "To ever have life be that normal again?"

"I honestly don't know," Marcus put his hand on Maya's shoulder. "But what I do know is that you've made it possible for us to at least _feel _normal. We're your soccer-mom van, 2.5 kids and pantsuit all rolled into one."

He smiled. "And I know that isn't something you wanted, and sometimes you have to get away. But you keep coming back, so you must like us a little."

Maya struggled not to just wrap him in a hug. "Of course I do. We're…well I guess we're family. A crazy, dysfunctional, zombie-killing family."

Marcus decided for her, pulling her into a warm side hug. "That we are. And that's the heart of it. We're family. _You're _family, Maya. I just want you to remember that when we get too annoying."

Maya laughed as Marcus steered them into the fray. "I'll try. Marcus…thanks. Really."

"What's family for?" he grinned. "Now come on, otherwise I don't think they'll be any pie left."


	10. Chapter 10

**Note: This story will be getting a bit darker now. Non-con themes, violence against women (and men) and really nasty people. As for this chapter, violence, swearing, eh the usual.**

* * *

The factory had been abandoned years ago, long before the dead decided to rise from their graves like a shitty B-horror movie. Huge holes gaped in the brick, weeds pushing through the crumbling mortar, and small furry things rustled in the rafters. It was a shit-hole, but it seemed an apt place to meet someone like Isaiah.

Job shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. Times like this he almost wished he smoked, just to have something to do with his damn hands. Some of his boys loitered outside, checking the perimeter for zombs. Mickey wasn't one of them, the useless son-of-a-bitch. Too busy sneaking off like a blue balled kid to see his _girlfriend. _If the talk among the men was any indicator, Mickey spent more time following that piece of ass around then he did actually patrolling.

Job scowled at the thought of his brother, fingers twitching in his pockets. The thought of _Mickey _of all people being the one to slide up between those thighs…Jesus but it made his skin crawl. What could she see in a grumpy old dog like that? Probably couldn't get it up half the time, fuck.

It rankled him, he could admit, that Maya-perfect-ass-Torres chose Mickey over him. Job wasn't used to not getting the things he wanted, and from the moment he saw that woman saunter on up to the house in those damn yoga pants…damn but he had _wanted. _Who wouldn't? And women never said no to Job. Especially not now at the end of the world.

At first he had figured Mickey had forced his way on her. Women always shied away from Mickey, afraid of his temper and growling. Usually drove them straight into Job's arms which suited him just fine. Some of his best lays had been women Mickey had had the hots for. Bit of brotherly competition.

So of course Mickey wouldn't land someone like that without a bit of _force. _Job had even smiled at the thought, imagining that holier than thou bitch brought to her knees to service someone as lowly as _Mickey. _Delicious irony really, beauty and the beast.

But then Mickey started acting weird. He got all…_soft. _Job hadn't seen him in a good fistfight in weeks, and Mickey didn't go around beating up men who looked at him funny. He still growled a lot sure, and the men still gave him a wide berth but…something was _missing. _And Job couldn't help but remember how Maya had shown up at the house, all tiny shorts and smooth legs, all but rubbing up on Mickey like a cat in heat. She had _kissed _him, slid those plump lips of hers over Mickey's like…well, like she wanted him.

And that… that rankled Job something fierce.

Job leaned to the side and spat. Mickey was always missing now, leaving Job to do all the heavy lifting. Fucking asshole.

"Jesus, how long we gotta wait for?"

Job gritted his teeth, narrowing his eyes at the man who had spoken. "As fucking long as it takes."

The man sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.

The men didn't fear him. Not like they feared Mickey. Job scowled even harder. Without Mickey at his side to sort out the loudmouths, the men didn't give Job the respect he deserved. Job had never been the type to get his hands dirty, after all why need to when you could just use your brother's fists to get the point across? But now with Mickey…_occupied, _Job was left to do everything himself. Left with a crew who didn't mind back-talking him, didn't fear the repercussions because there weren't any. Sure, Job could go firing a shotgun blast into a few skulls-and boy wouldn't that make him feel good- but the fact was he _needed _all the men he had.

Plus it was bad for business.

One of the sentries called out. The men straightened at that, and Job let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"Finally," he muttered, rolling his neck as a troop of newcomers entered the factory. "Thought you'd gotten lost."

The man who strode forward to grab his hand, was normal looking. Tall, shaven and dark-haired, he coulda been a neighbor, or the local dentist. Smart looking guy. Like Job and the rest of the men he was in torn jeans and a t-shirt, the uniform of their new world. An assortment of rifles and assault weapons were strapped to their backs, some pretty heavy shit that had Job immediately on edge.

Back in the normal world Job would have worked men like Isaiah over for money, running schemes, protection rackets, whatever. Would have bled them dry and even slept with their pretty trophy wives before he was gone, blowing their hard-earned money on drugs, more women and booze.

But Job had quickly realized that Isaiah wasn't a normal guy. Hell, he was willing to bet real money that the guy's name wasn't Isaiah at all. He may look like your handsome guy next door, but there was something horrible lurking beneath his easy smile. The new world brought out the best in some folks, and the worst in others.

Isaiah was one of the worst.

The man smiled widely, his grip fierce. "Job, you son-of-a-bitch. Good to see you." Isaiah's dark eyes slid to look pointedly at the empty space beside Job. "Missing something?"

"He's busy," Job crossed his arms and the men at his back shifted. "So you bring the stuff?"

With a nod, one of the goons brought forward a duffel dropping it on the concrete between the two men. Isaiah smiled easily.

"As promised. A big ol' bag of guns."

Job kneeled to unzip it, mindful of where Isaiah's hands were. He'd seen the son-of-a-bitch fight, had seen him rip a zomb apart with his bare hands. Yet another little spectacle Mickey had been too busy to witness.

As promised, the bag was packed with guns and ammo, enough to launch a small assault. Job trailed his finger lightly over a grenade, whistling appreciatively.

"Damn but you treat me good," Job zipped everything back up, motioning for one of his own men to grab it. He picked the mouthy one, just to be petty. The man grimaced, but picked up the heavy bag without any lip.

Isaiah folded his arms, still smiling. "So how're things your end, Job? Still peachy?"

Job narrowed his eyes. He didn't trust this man any more than he trusted…well anyone. "Small-talk, Isaiah? Thought this was a business transaction, not a social call."

The man laughed. "Can't a man chat with a neighbor? I've been checking out the real estate in these parts and find it…_quite _lovely. I'm thinking of investing."

Job grunted. He had a feeling he knew what type of _real estate _had caught Isaiah's attention. "Told ya, can't hit that group. They're too big to take on and well-fortified up there."

And wasn't that a big ass lie. Only reason Job had let them be was because of his shit for brains brother. Mickey would throw a fit if Job went ahead and did anything to his precious _Maya. _And with the men more fearful of Mickey, they'd probably side with the wrong Wilkerson if it came to it. It pissed him off, but Job knew how to pick his battles.

Isaiah shrugged. "For you maybe. We've been…working on it."

And _that _got Job's attention. Some of the boys had mentioned seeing someone out in the fields late at night. A few reports even mentioned seeing some of the big fat fuckers there too. If it was true, and it was Isaiah behind it…lord knows Job needed to stay on his good side.

"That so? Care to share?"

Isaiah laughed. He did that a lot, like everything was amusing. Hell, maybe to him, everything was. Fucking psychopath. "Let's just say that this could be a…mutually beneficial endeavor."

Job considered it. He'd been gunning to take out Maya's group for a while. They had supplies up there, a farm for God's sake that would go a long way towards feeding Job's own crew. And of course, the women. Isaiah could do all the work and Job could reap the spoils, _and _keep his name clean. Mickey would be none the wiser.

Isaiah picked at his nails as if bored. "We only want the women. You can have whatever shitty supplies they have."

Job glanced towards his frowning men. Fact was, women were a scarce commodity. The ones at the house weren't exactly _nice, _and Job could admit, that was partly his fault. He had picked the best for himself, leaving the older, less desirable women for the other men. And his most recent bed warmer, what was her name? The young one. She just never stopped crying when he was trying to fuck her. He'd lost his temper, he owed up to it. But really, could he be blamed? All he wanted was some sex and she got all weepy and shit. It had just been a little smack, more like a tap, just to remind her who was boss. So she lost some teeth, wasn't like she _needed _them. Now the men were muttering about him ruining yet another bed-warmer and the women scurried around him like mice. And where was Mickey when Job needed him? Off fucking _gallivanting _around town with his dick out.

"Fair enough, but I want one or two," Job said. He needed to make his crew happy somehow. Pussy was an easy enough way to win back some of his boys support. "'Aint got much ourselves up at the house."

Job hadn't been dealing with Isaiah for long. First couple times they exchanged ammo and food, then a woman for guns, then a few more women Job found holed up in a house downtown for more guns. Never men. Those Job either brought into his own crew, or put down where he found them. He wondered vaguely what Mickey would think of that. Despite his temper, Mickey had always had a weirdly rigid set of morals. He'd beat a guy, sure, but only to a certain point. Job was the one who finished things.

But Mickey wasn't here. So fuck him.

Isaiah nodded. "That can be arranged. After."

Job didn't know what the hell _after _meant, but he could imagine. He'd seen the dead eyed women who trailed after Isaiah's crew once or twice. Mickey wouldn't wanna touch Maya with a ten foot pole after Isaiah had his fun with her.

But Job had some ideas.

He stuck out his hand with a grin. "You got yourself a deal."

* * *

Two days had passed since Maya ran out on the group. They passed uneventfully, and Maya stayed busy helping with various tasks. The barn needed repairing so the outpost traps would work, boards needed re-hammering, and the garden needed tending. She caught Lily shooting her worried looks every now and then, but for the most part it felt like things were back to normal. A few hoards came shuffling through but Maya took care of them with her truck, and when she was out in the field gathering the last lot of fruit, a random rifle bullet had found its way through a screamers head as it came up behind her.

She had smiled in the shot's direction, knowing Mickey was out there. It was too soon to meet again, her group still suspicious, but it put her at ease that Mickey had been serious about sticking together.

On the morning of the third day, Maya was glancing at an old calendar on the wall. One of the women, Danica, Maya bet, had been keeping track, carefully marking down the days with a red pen. It was then Maya realized it was her birthday.

It seemed like such an insignificant thing. She made the mistake of mentioning it to Danica in passing, thanking her for keeping track of the days, and before she knew it Lily was blabbing it all over the radio.

"Anyone out scavenging look for party streamers," the girl was saying as Maya walked into the comm room. "Oh oh, and candles! Like, a hundred of them maybe."

"Give me that!" Maya wrestled for the radio but for a small scrawny girl, Lily was strong. "Ignore that! I don't want any streamers! Jesus, Lil, just how old do you think I am?"

"Old as balls," Lily said gleefully, and groaning, Maya realized the radio was still on. "Come on people, let's throw an awesome birthday party for our fearless leader."

Maya admitted defeat, standing back and crossing her arms. "I thought we all agreed Marcus was more the leading type."

"Sure," Lily shrugged. "He's like…our mayor. But you're our go-to woman, the true power behind the politician."

Maya made a face. "I'm really not sure if that's a compliment or insult."

The radio crackled. "_Did someone say birthday?"_ Patrick asked, sounding far too enthusiastic. "_I think we've got the ingredients to make a simple cake."_

"Sweet!" Lily pumped the air. "Yeah Patrick, turns out Maya's turning fifty so we're gonna-"

"You little brat!" Maya managed to wrestle the radio away, ignoring Lily's peals of laughter. "Patrick, don't bother. I don't want a fuss and for god's sake _I'm not turning fifty._"

"_Roger that, one big five oh party coming right up," _Tyler piped up instead, the sound tinny and far away. "_You're lookin' good to be pushing ol' Doc's age, Maya."_

Maya groaned, slapping her forehead as Lily just laughed harder. "I hate you all."

"_Love you too, Mama Bear," _Deliliah answered instead of the other two. Just as Maya was about to drop the radio, another voice came over the line, disgruntled but familiar.

"_I'll have you all know that fifty is a perfectly respectable age," _Doc Hanson grumbled, and Lily was laughing so hard tears were leaking down her cheeks. "_But in any case, Happy Birthday, Maya."_

"Thanks," Maya sighed. "As an apology Doc, feel free to come over. I think Lily hasn't been taking her meds. She's going to need LOTS of needles. Poking. _Everywhere._"

Lily squealed, grabbing for the radio. "She's lying! No needles!"

It was Maya's turn to laugh, holding the radio high above Lily's head. Maybe a party wouldn't be a bad idea, the farmhouse defenses were solid, and a bit of downtime would be good for everyone.

Even if it meant Maya had to sacrifice some of her pride as a fifty year old woman.

* * *

That evening, the farmhouse was alive with laughing, drinking and merrymaking. Patrick had managed to find a stash of whiskey in one of the old farmhouses, and all those eager enough (and not on guard duty) indulged. Maya wasn't one of them, though she did sip from her own cup the concoction Lily had made up for those who didn't want to drink; some sort of a fruit punch made from flat 7up and Fanta. They didn't risk any music but it seemed they didn't need it; Leah was dancing to only a tune she could hear, Gage hanging off one arm and brandishing a bottle in the other.

Maya had even been surprised to find a box dropped off at the front gate. Inside were a few things, a couple cans of corn, some blankets. A hastily scribbled note wished her a happy birthday, and Maya recognized Sam's apology for what it was. She made a note to swing by his enclave soon with a care package of her own. She owed him that much at least.

The night air was chilly. Autumn would be upon them in a few weeks, then winter. Maya stood on the porch, looking up at the night sky contemplatively. Up in the watchtower Marcus leaned on the railing, a dark shape outlined by the light of the moon.

A loud burst of laughter from the house made Maya smile, and she padded down the porch steps in bare feet. For the party everyone had tried to dress up, but Maya had stuck with a too baggy t-shirt and her pilfered shorts. A ratty old blanket was around her shoulders, and she gripped it closed against her chest with one hand, a drink in the other. The grass was cold against her feet, but Maya relished the feeling, scrunching her toes into the dirt.

"We attracting anything?" she called out. Marcus shifted, not taking his eyes off the fields beyond on the farmhouse.

"Nope. So you just enjoy tonight. You've earned it!"

Maya raised her plastic cup to him. "Aye aye, Mister Mayor."

Instead of wandering back inside, Maya ambled through the gardens, enjoying the stillness. Finishing her drink, she left the cup sitting on the porch railing, trailing her now free hand through the growing plants. The garden had grown quickly in the hotter summer days, and they'd have some more vegetables ready for preserving soon. Patrick was already excited.

She moved past the garden towards the storage shed. The door was shut but she could hear movement within, and curious, Maya cocked an ear.

Ah. She knew what _those _sounds were.

Feeling mischievous, she banged on the door. "I hope you're using protection in there, kids!"

There was an embarrassed giggle, and a very loud snort. "Alright, _Mom!"_

Maya rolled her eyes with a smile. So Leah had found herself a new bed friend. She just hoped this fling would last longer than her last one. She and Gage had had a thing for a while, and it had been messy when they broke things off.

Maya moved off, checking the fences as she walked. There was no harm in being alert, after all. She reached the back-gate that led to the orchard and peered between the bars. The orchard was zomb free for once, which put her at ease.

She turned, ready to head back inside, when a flash of movement caught her eye.

Maya froze, hand going to her empty belt automatically. She had left her weapons inside and for a moment she cursed her stupidity. She remained still, barely moving as she peered out into the darkness. For a second she thought she must have been mistaken, but after a beat, she saw it again.

Her blood froze.

It had scuttled up a tree, but at the lack of movement came slinking back down, snuffling the air. Most of the front of its face had either rotted away, or been blown out by a shotgun, leaving behind a bloody oozing crater. In the moonlight its tattered skin seemed translucent, black veins bulging along its back as it crouched on all fours.

A feral.

It knew she was nearby, but the injury to its face was limiting it from finding her. Maya held her breath as it moved closer, knuckles bloodless where she gripped the blanket around her shoulders.

Marcus couldn't see it from his position. And if she called out, it would be over the fence and on her in a second. She could run, but it would follow her inside the compound. And with so many roofs to hide on, it could do some serious damage.

The best way to defeat a feral was get it somewhere open. Maya had been particularly fond of running them over with her truck, but she had been fortunate to only encounter one or two.

One so close to the farmhouse was _bad. _Ferals usually stayed close to town, where they had more places to find a high advantage point and hole up during the day. If they were beginning to move away from the town it must mean food was becoming scarce.

For once, Maya didn't have a plan. She stood there, stricken, watching it move closer. It was sniffing the air with what was left of its ruined nose, but still didn't seem to have picked up on her yet. Cautiously, she took a slow step back.

"Maya!" The shout came from behind her, loud and joyous and completely unaware. Maya's heart dropped as the feral raised its head. Danica came lurching up behind Maya, grinning goofily. "What are you doing out her-"

The feral screeched.

Maya spun on her heel, reaching for Danica. The woman's eyes were wide, staring beyond Maya at what was undoubtedly bounding towards them both. Instead of pushing her away, Maya grabbed a hold of Danica's arm, pulling her forward and down onto the grass. Forcefully Maya rolled them both back towards the fence.

Her reasoning worked; the feral had jumped the fence aiming for where Danica had stood. It twisted as they rolled out of reach, landing awkwardly on the grass.

Maya had just enough time to get up onto her knees, and then it was on her. She brought her arms up to defend her head and it dug bloody trenches into her forearms with its broken nails. Maya cried out and it pressed in, snapping broken teeth in her face.

She got her injured arm up, jabbing her forearm up against its throat to keep it from biting her. It had pushed her over onto her back when it lunged, but she had managed to get her knees up, jamming them into the creature's concave chest.

Fetid drool and bloody foam dribbled from its mouth, smearing sticky trails across her arms and face. Maya kept her mouth shut, trying to breathe as shallowly as possible to avoid the terrible stench. A claw dug into her shoulder and she grunted, her muscles screaming in agony as she struggled to keep the feral at bay.

Danica was screaming hysterically. Maya saw her in the corner of her vision, and almost laughed at the absurdity of it. Danica was brandishing a shovel, slamming it down across the feral's head and shoulders. It was about as effective as a fly bumping into an elephant.

The feral paid no attention to Danica, staring down at Maya. Ferals had always creeped Maya out, because unlike the other zombs, Maya could swear that she saw _intelligence _in those black dead eyes. Nothing like the human intelligence it must have once possessed when alive, but something animal. A predator capable of outsmarting prey.

And Maya felt very much like prey.

Danica was alternating between screaming, and babbling. She was obviously drunk, and with sinking dread, Maya realized most of the others were as well. It didn't bode well for a speedy rescue.

"It's her _fucking birthday _you animal!" the woman was yelling, as if that would somehow convince the feral to go away. "_Fuck off!_"

Gritting her teeth, Maya felt her arms and legs trembling under the strain. Loud alarmed voices told her that the others had heard and were coming, but it was doubtful anyone would dare shooting with Maya so close.

"Get my axe!" she managed to bellow, twisting her head away as the feral lunged. "My axe! _My fucking axe!"_

Danica dropped the shovel, running. Marcus came into view, breathing hard and face grim. He had a shotgun in his hands.

"Push it's head up!" he bellowed over the feral's screeches. "And I'll blow it to fucking kingdom come!"

Maya gasped as it raked a hand down her side, shredding her shirt and drawing blood. "You'll shoot my arm off!"

The feral twisted suddenly, rearing back. Surprised, Maya's arm flailed in the space it had left. A shotgun blast boomed far too close to her and the feral yowled. Marcus had missed the head, catching it in the shoulder instead. Bits of decaying meat showered down on Maya, but she didn't have time to be grossed out.

Quicker than Marcus could fire again, the feral grabbed Maya, nails digging painfully into her already shredded shoulder, and _leapt. _

Maya screamed, feeling her bare feet scrape painfully over the top of the fence as she was dragged over it, the whole world tilting and spinning. It landed, and Maya jarred her hip against the grass. The claws left her shoulder, only for a rotting arm to wind around her waist hoisting her up. She dangled like a puppet as the feral got to its feet, running out into the orchard.

_This can't be my life, _Maya thought numbly, watching the grasses whiz by beneath her. _Abducted by a zombie on my birthday._

Ferals were fast, but that was on all fours. On two, it moved slower, and with Maya dangling from its arm, slower still. Maya could hear the others opening the gate and pouring through. She hoped they had the sense of mind to take one of the cars, the only place the feral could run would be a field, and there they at least had the chance of running it down.

And just what the hell was it even _doing? _She'd never seen a zomb just carry someone off before. Then again, it made a sick kind of sense. Any animal would take its prey somewhere safer and more quiet to eat.

"Oh no," Maya muttered angrily, kicking out as hard as she could and writhing in its grip. "I am _not _fast food, buddy!"

The feral ignored her. The grip around her waist was surprisingly strong, and Maya feared that struggling too hard might make it squeeze her harder. She had no idea if that would hurt the baby inside her or not, but this really wasn't the time to find out.

It cleared the orchard in bounds, turning off the dirt road to cut into the fields. Maya's heart was in her mouth as it crested the hill, loping out into the field as if it hadn't a care in the world. If it got past the fields out into the swamp the group wouldn't be able to follow easily, it could be miles away by the time they got through it. And if the feral got her into the town then she was as good as dead. It could drag her into any little hidey hole and with no weapons, she'd be an easy kill.

Behind them, Maya could see some members of her group break through the trees. They looked impossibly small, and Maya realized the feral was moving much faster across the flat ground than she had anticipated.

It banked a sudden right, easily vaulting over a fence. Maya craned her face to try and see what direction they were headed, and gasped.

Zombs littered the field. Dozens of them. The blackened carcass of an airplane rose to their left, the field around it charred and blackened from its crash. Maya had seen it from a distance but hadn't wandered over here herself, the zombie density kept her well away.

And now she was going straight into it.

Most didn't pay the feral much attention, continuing their mindless shuffling. A few turned blank faces towards her, moving close, but the feral moved by with only a few disgruntled growls. If Maya had been more scientifically minded she might have thought it interesting how the zombs seemed to defer to the feral as dominant, but as it was, she was too busy panicking.

It was heading for the abandoned industrial estate. Maya had been there once or twice to help out an enclave that was dead now, but it was a good place for a feral nest.

And a good place for her to die horribly.

Maya struggled, earning herself an irritated growl in response. It was a miracle the creature hadn't bitten her yet, but she was scratched up enough that if she didn't take care of her wounds soon, she could very well get a bad blood infection.

An old shack appeared on the horizon, and Maya knew she needed to act now, or die. Summoning what energy she had left, she twisted, grabbing at the feral's face from behind. It was an odd angle, but she managed it, jamming her fingers as hard as she could into its eyes, thumbs braced against its temples.

She felt them pop, globules of jelly-like slime slipping down her hands.

The feral _screamed, _releasing her to claw uselessly at its face.

Maya fell on her knees, and was immediately scrambling away. It was undignified, a parody of the feral's own running gait, but she got up to a decent enough speed that she had at least made it to the shack's steps before the feral was back on her.

She rolled as it grabbed at her back, and it slammed into the rotting wooden steps. The railings were cracked and falling apart. Maya thanked whatever deity that would listen, as one of the hefty wooden railings splintered off when she pulled it.

The end was jagged, and with a loud yell, Maya rammed it into the feral's side as it turned, searching for her with gushing holes where its eyes had been. The rotting skin gave easily, ribs snapping like paper beneath Maya's adrenaline fueled shove.

She pulled it free, black blood pouring out across the steps, splashing against her cut up feet. It twitched, yowling piteously, and Maya raised the wood up over her head.

"Just _fucking die!_" she yelled.

She brought it down on the feral's head, and it obliged her, the scream in its throat abruptly cut off.

Shards of skull and bits of brain matter splattered against her bare legs. Exhausted, Maya dropped down onto the top porch, the bit of wood falling from her hands. Splinters were embedded in her palms, her arms cut up, her feet smarting, her shoulder bleeding, _everything _hurt but…she was still alive.

Maya breathed heavily, cupping her stomach with a trembling hand. It calmed her somewhat, and she stroked her aching palm across her belly. She peered down at herself, convinced her stomach wasn't as flat as it once had been. The thought made her feel a little better. "You better be okay in there."

She glanced out over the field. Zombs were shuffling her way, drawn by the commotion. She needed to move.

Wincing, she stood. Her feet protested, but Maya ignored them, hobbling slowly but surely away from the shack. There was a road down the dirt path, she knew. It would take longer to get back to the farmhouse, but if she was lucky the others would be in a car looking for her. Cutting back the way she came was impossible, not with the amount of zombs and her with no weapon and injured.

No, she'd have to walk.

"Happy fucking birthday to me," she muttered.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes:** Thanks for the reviews guys! I'm so happy that some people are reading and enjoying :)

* * *

Mickey woke to raised voices. He blinked, coming to from a dreamless sleep. Sunlight streamed in through his cracked window, a slight breeze rustling the threadbare curtains.

Morning.

"Fuck!"

Mickey sat up with a jolt. Jesus, he hadn't meant to fall asleep last night, he must have closed his eyes at some point and just slumped over.

Mickey cast around, looking for the small box he had so carefully wrapped the night before. It lay over by his boots, overturned but still intact. At least he hadn't rolled on it during the night and crushed it.

Mickey sighed miserably, scrubbing a hand over his face. He had _meant _to swing by Maya's place last night. The box was for her, inside it, as good a birthday present as someone like Mickey could find. He hadn't even been able to find any decent paper to wrap it in, so had settled for some brown grease paper, tied off with some twine he found rotting away in a shed.

It looked like shit, but he hoped the thought behind it would win him brownie points at least.

Only now he was fucking _late. _He had clean slept away Maya's birthday. Jesus, he was the worst boyfriend ever.

He couldn't stop smiling at that thought, even though he knew he was probably in deep shit. Women remembered when you forgot things, could hold it over your head for years. Mickey scrambled to find some clean-ish clothes, giving his t-shirt a cautionary sniff. It would do. He pulled it over his head, deciding the jeans he had fallen asleep in were clean enough. Hunting down some socks, he paused as he heard the voices again. Mickey frowned, hopping on one foot as he struggled to get his socks on.

The voices were muffled, but he could just about make out Job.

"-the fuck you think you're doing-"

A voice responded, with an angry tone. Sounded like Doc. The old man was always running off to tend to the various folks in the valley, and Job liked to kick up a stink when he did. Job didn't like that Doc got free rein to go where he pleased, wanted him to commit to one group. Theirs, especially.

Mickey shrugged, not caring about what the two men were arguing about. He was in too good a mood; the sun was shining, he was gonna give Maya her gift, and then take her somewhere nice. Maybe he'd take some food with him and they could head up to the ridge past town. Have a picnic. She'd have to forgive him then.

Mickey chuckled at himself, pulling a long sleeve button up over his t-shirt. Look at him, all domestic like. He tucked Maya's gift into his breast pocket, giving it a pat.

The past few days spent away from Maya had been harder than he had liked. It gave him space to think, sure, but Mickey found he didn't have much want for thinking. Maya was gonna have his baby. He had spent all of five minutes panicking about it, but figured in the end, there was nothing for it. It was happening whether he liked it or not, and he could admit to himself that the thought of a babe in Maya's arms, _his _babe, was one he liked pretty damn well. For a man who had made his peace with never having a family of his own, Mickey had adjusted to the thought pretty damn quick. He just hoped it looked more like Maya than him.

Lacing up his boots and grabbing his pack, Mickey turned to look around his sad room. His non-existent bed, the chair he had scrounged from the back porch.

With a snort, he shut the door.

Job and Doc were still yelling as he tromped down the stairs. Both men were outside on the porch, but the front door was open. Mickey got his rifle out of the closet in the hallway, slinging it over his shoulder as he listened.

"-can't just fuck off whenever you damn well please!" Job was yelling, jabbing his finger into Doc's chest.

Mickey frowned. Job knew better than to speak to Doc like that. The old man had been around the Wilkerson family for most of the brothers' lives, and though their manners might be shit when it was anyone else, it was an unspoken rule to behave round Doc.

Doc looked tired as Mickey approached, the man's face paler than usual and his clothes rumpled like they were pulled on in a hurry. Dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes and he looked older than his years.

"You 'aint my keeper, boy," the doctor shot back. "I go where I'm needed, and right now I'm _needed _somewhere."

Both men suddenly noticed Mickey as he strode over. Mickey sighed silently as he noticed Job's stormy glare turned on him.

"The old bastard is running out on us again," Job proclaimed angrily, waving his arms around. "Mickey you-"

"The fuck do I care?" Mickey interrupted, already beginning to feel annoyed. Job had that effect on him these days. "Doc's a grown ass man. Let 'im go."

"He wants to take a truck!" Job spat. "One of our goddamn trucks to do _his _dilly dallyin' round town."

Mickey shrugged. "So give him the damn truck, Job. Hell, I'll take him wherever he wants to go, was headin' out anyways."

Job scowled at his brother. "Yeah, we all know where _you're _goin'."

"The hell does that mean?"

"You know damn well what it means-"

"Actually," Doc cut in before the two Wilkersons could start trying to out stare each other. "Mickey, I need to talk to you."

"'Aint nothing you can't say with me here," Job snapped.

Mickey was about to fire something back at his brother when he caught the look in Doc's eye. The doctor looked…worried. Scared even. Mickey squared his shoulders, dropping his easy smile.

"Job, go fuck off somewhere."

Job spluttered. "The hell you say-"

"You fuckin' heard me," Mickey growled, all semblance of good mood gone. He jerked a thumb in the direction of the barn. "Go make sure the truck is full or somethin'. Just, _git._"

Job stared at him. Mickey wondered if he'd have to get physical, but with a furious mutter, Job spun on his heel, storming away. Mickey ignored his brother's retreat, turning his attention back to Doc.

"Doc, is it Maya?" he took a step forward, hunching his shoulders forward to get to Doc's level. He lowered his voice. "Is it…is somethin' wrong with the baby?"

Doc looked at him helplessly. "Mickey, I…"

He shook his head, rubbing his temples tiredly. "I got a radio call from Lily. I didn't hear them earlier but apparently they've been callin' since late last night."

Icy fingers squeezed Mickey's heart. Doc slid off his hat, toying with the brim nervously.

"I dunno much but…Maya's missin'. Lily said…" he swallowed, meeting Mickey's stormy grey eyes. "She was taken."

Mickey straightened to his full height, strangely cool. So one of those fuckers across the river thought they could muscle in did they? He hoped Maya ripped their fucking balls off.

"Who by?" he asked gruffly, already estimating how much ammo and manpower they had. They could launch a small assault if it was one of the small, weaker groups; he'd have to rustle up more men if it was a big one. Job had some good heavy shit hidden away out back; Mickey could take some grenades and blow a hole in their defenses. He'd take one of the automatics and go fucking Rambo on their asses. Shouldn't be-

"You mean _what_," Doc said quietly, putting a halt to Mickey's planning. "She was taken by a feral. A zombie, Mickey. She…she's been missin' for close to six hours. Lily says it took her during the party last night. She's…not armed."

Mickey stared. Doc shifted beneath his gaze, dropping his eyes.

"I'm headin' over to see if I can help in the search. If they…if they find her I might be of some help, but if she's…" he winced, fingers pulling at a loose thread on his hat. "It's been too long, Mickey. She might be…might be…"

Mickey wasn't listening. He felt stuck to the spot, like his feet were rooted in molasses, his heart thundering in his chest like it wanted out.

_Taken. Feral. Six fucking **hours.**_

Mickey had only seen a feral once. He'd sniped that fucker from across a field so it couldn't get close. He remembered what it looked like though, all fucked up and shredded like it crawled outta a wood chipper. Teeth dripping black shit as it prowled for easy prey. And those _eyes_, damn, it was like it could see him, focused on him right as squeezed the trigger, those black demon eyes boring into him.

He tried to imagine it. Maya wasn't one to be caught unaware, she'd give it her all. Maybe get in a few good hits but with no weapons, she'd be vulnerable. And with the baby-

All the air left him, Mickey's lungs achingly empty and unable to suck in anything. His brain went into overdrive, showing him what must have happened while he was busy fucking _sleeping. _He was supposed to be looking out for her, but of course he had fucked that up too.

Maya, bleeding, trying to run and screaming for him and he wasn't there.

Maya lying still on the ground, blood leaking into the grass, black in the moonlight. Her blank eyes seemed to stare at him, judging. _You couldn't protect us, didn't even try._

Maya split open like a butchered pig, limbs twitching as the feral worried at her flesh. _You fucked it all up, Mickey. Like you always do. _

Teeth crunching against bone as the feral burrowed deeper into her insides. _You were a mistake. Thank god you won't have a chance to fuck up the __**baby**__._

The feral raising its head, something pink and sticky dangling from its jaws. It was crying, high pitched and reedy, and Maya was laughing, laughing and crying and screaming…oh god she was _screaming_…

Pain burst along Mickey's cheek, his head rocking back from the impact. He blinked, the world around him coming back into focus. There was no feral, no dead Maya. Just a haggard looking Doc, standing close and hand still raised, ready to backhand him again. Around them men were gathering, muttering to each other as they watched the two with wide eyes.

Mickey gasped, lungs working again. He touched his stinging cheek numbly, hand shaking, and Doc seemed to slump in relief.

"Jesus, sorry but you were turnin' blue," Doc's reached out to touch him, squeezing Mickey's shoulder. The touch was warm, grounding. Real. "I 'aint given up yet, boy. And neither should you. If anyone is gonna survive somethin' like this, it's Maya. You know that."

Mickey breathed. In, out. In, out. He concentrated on the movement, trying to calm himself. Slowly his heart resumed a steady pace, and he felt like he could speak without wanting to scream.

_Step by step,_ a voice reminded him. It sounded like the _real _Maya. The living one that was somewhere out there waiting for him to get his shit together. Of course she was still alive. The other option was…impossible to accept.

Mickey nodded. He breathed out slowly, steeling himself. He couldn't afford to lose it, Maya needed him.

"Right."

He turned, legs feeling wobbly. He ignored it, picking a man he recognized in the crowd. "Boyd, you go out back and fill two packs. One with ammo, .40 and .50 cal only. I want food in the other one, any and all dry food we can spare."

The man looked flustered, looking at his friends worriedly. "But Job-"

"Do it now, or I'll shoot ya where you stand," Mickey said calmly. "Two packs, like I said."

The man didn't question him again, boots kicking up dust as he hurried to obey. Mickey pointed at another.

"Go get the red Ford truck ready. I get in it and find it's low on gas and I'll rearrange your fuckin' insides with my foot."

The man was gone before Mickey had even finished.

Mickey glanced over at Doc. "You gotta gun, Doc?"

The doctor looked baffled, jamming his hat back on his head. "'Course, what are we-"

"Mickey!" Job came stomping back, face red. Men scurried out of his way. "Why is some shithead revvin' up my truck?"

Mickey started walking, Doc hurrying to keep up. With every step he felt stronger, an eerie sense of calm replacing his earlier panic. "The hell you think? Doc and I are headin' up to Fred's place."

Job jogged to keep up with his brother's long strides. "That ol' coot who lives in the woods? What you gonna do up there?"

The truck was on and running as Mickey approached, dumping his pack in the back. The man he had chosen to check it nodded to him, running away as quick as he could.

"'Cause he has close to two dozen dogs up there," Mickey said, grabbing Doc's bag as well and hoisting it over. "And I'm gonna go barter me one."

Job stared at him. "You gone stupid all of a sudden? The fuck you gonna do with a _dog?_"

Boyd struggled out of the house with the two heavy packs. Job noticed as the man hurried over. "What's that?"

"Barterin' leverage," Mickey waved the man forward and Boyd struggled up, huffing and puffing. Mickey grabbed the bags and tossed them into the back to join the others. "And they're huntin' dogs. Trackers. Considered gettin' one before, but now well, I need one."

Job grabbed his arm. "Not with our supplies you don't. The hell's gotten into you, Mickey? Now you listen to me-"

Mickey whirled, grabbing his brother by the throat. Job's eyes went wide, and Mickey lifted him up onto his toes, giving him a shake as if he were an errant pup.

"I 'aint gotta do shit, _boy,_" Mickey growled, and the men still brave enough to be watching, froze, all talk dropping into an expectant silence. Job's hands scrabbled at Mickey's wrist, trying to pry him away, but Mickey held firm. His little brother's eyes were fearful, realizing he was at Mickey's mercy, and something dark inside Mickey reveled in it.

He tightened his fingers slightly, nails biting into Job's skin. "Now, I'm gonna take this truck, and these supplies, and go get me a trackin' dog. 'Cause somethin' of mine has gone missin' and I need help findin' it. And _you_ need to get outta my damn way."

He shoved Job, sending his younger brother into an undignified sprawl. There were a few titters from the men around them. Embarrassed and furious, Job got to his feet, face red.

"This has to do with that bitch of yours, don't it?" he called out as Mickey made to turn away. "What's happened, she run off with another man? Your cock not _good enough _for her, Mickey?"

Mickey wanted to hit him. He wanted to yell and tackle his brother, force him to the ground and punch that knowing look off his stupid face. He wanted to fight until his hands bled and his muscles screamed in agony. He wanted blood, he wanted pain, he wanted to feel _in control._

But Mickey did none of those things.

"I don't got the time to waste explainin'," Mickey said instead. "Specially to _you_."

Turning, he got into the truck. Doc joined him, the sound of the slamming doors deafening in the silence.

Job was shaking with fury.

"Don't you fucking walk away from me!" he bellowed, marching forward. "Don't you dare-"

Mickey stomped his foot down on the gas.

* * *

Lily Ritter didn't consider herself a survivor.

She had to take medicine, got out of breath from even taking a few stairs too fast, and was, quite honestly, a bit of a wuss. It was a miracle she had even made it this far, and all of it was thanks to the small group she now called family.

And right now, her family was in disarray.

Lily watched helplessly from the comm room as the house echoed with activity. Guns cocking, ammo clinking, it sounded like they were going to war. But their General was missing, and without her, the odds didn't look good.

Lily glanced towards her brother. Jacob stood by the window, peering out from between the cracks in the boards they had nailed up.

"They still out there?" she asked worriedly, rubbing her arms.

Jacob nodded tersely. "Yeah. They're not even _trying _to hide. I'm telling ya Lil, it's no coincidence that Maya's taken and then suddenly these assholes show up."

Lily drifted to his side, hugging his side like she used to when they were kids. "But it was a _feral_, Jacob. We all saw it."

Tears threatened to start spilling down her cheeks again. It had been awful, seeing Maya dragged over the fence like that, bleeding and yelling.

Angrily, Lily jammed the heel of her hand into her eye, rubbing furiously. Now wasn't the time.

Jacob slid an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. "Hey, it's okay."

"No, it's _not_," Lily said, voice wavering. "I can't lose her, Jacob. We lost Dad, you lost Eli…I can't lose Maya too."

Jacob watched her sadly. "I know. But…even if she is gone…we'll survive, Lil. It's what we do."

Lily shoved him away from her. "Maybe you, but I don't _want _to survive. Not like this."

Marcus had been all ready to get into one of the cars and drive off after the feral, and the others hadn't been far behind. Only problem was that in the commotion, someone had cut the fuel lines. And that _someone _turned out to be a group of men Lily had never seen before. They had come out of the dark with guns drawn as the group milled around in confusion, and though Marcus and Ed fired warning shots, it didn't scare them off.

The group had bunkered themselves inside the farmhouse while the strangers prowled outside the gate. Seemed they weren't interested in coming in just yet, but judging from the firepower they had with them, they didn't want anyone leaving.

Which meant no-one could go after Maya.

Lily peered outside. "What do they want, Jacob? They've been out there all night."

Out towards the barn, Lily could see two men. They were leaning up against the barn wall, talking lowly. There were six others, but she couldn't see them.

"We could take them," she declared fiercely, surprising herself. "There's only eight of them, and eigh_teen_ of us! Well…" she swallowed. "Seventeen."

Jacob shook his head grimly. "Those are full automatic weapons they got, Lil. They'd mow us down like sitting ducks. And see the round shapes on that one's belt? Those are grenades. All he has to do is toss one of those in here and we're all dead."

"So why doesn't he?" Lily pulled away from the window, sick to her stomach. "Why this whole standoff? It's driving me crazy wondering when they're going to try and bust in here, and in case anyone has forgotten, Maya is s_till _missing! She needs our help!"

"No-one's forgotten."

Both jumped, turning as one to look at Marcus in the doorway. The man looked exhausted, but determined.

"We'll find her, Lil. But right now we have to deal with these shitheads. We need to scare them off."

"And how are we gonna do that?" Jacob asked, gesturing towards the window. "They have us out gunned."

"They're waiting for something. I'm willing to bet it's their leader, because these guys don't look well organized. Just a show of force. They're waiting for someone to tell them what to do."

Lily shivered. "You think they're the new group Maya was talking about?"

Marcus looked grim. "I'm thinking so. They were probably going to hit us eventually, and just seized the opportunity when we were panicking."

He glanced over at the radio on the table where Lily usually sat. "Anyone answer?"

Lily walked back to her station, sinking down on the creaking chair. "I managed to get through to Doc, but I only got a chance to tell him about Maya. He cut the call before I could tell him about our guests. I guess he's worried for Maya as well."

Marcus sighed. "I just hope he doesn't come here and get dragged into this mess."

Lily swallowed. "Maybe he'll bring some reinforcements?"

"Like the Wilkersons?" Marcus snorted. "These assholes are probably working for them."

Lily looked over at Jacob worriedly. The Wilkersons had always been like a boogeyman tale for the small town, ever since Lily could remember. All the kids had whispered about what supposedly went on up at their farm, satanic worship, virgin sacrifices, the whole shebang. Lily had even believed it once upon a time, especially when a rumor started circulating around town that anyone who headed up there was never seen again.

She had dared Jacob one Halloween to go up there, and she had followed him up to the property fence, heart pounding and palms clammy. He had made it to one of the granaries before being spotted, and Lily had never seen her brother run as fast as he had with Papa Wilkerson chasing after him with a shotgun.

But as she got older, Lily got to know the truth of the Wilkersons, and maybe that was actually worse than tales of devil worship. Fights, hustling money, black eyes and broken noses. It wasn't a true Saturday night at the local bar unless someone had been hospitalized by Mickey. Or some poor sap complaining he was conned out of money by Job.

Lily's Dad always used to warn her to stay away from them, so it was with a strange fearful awe Lily would sneak glances at them if she spotted one in town. Sometimes Mickey would drop in at the local supermarket, growling at anyone who stared at him too long as he grabbed groceries. She spotted Job at the diner once or twice, talking to the young pretty waitresses, his hands straying underneath their aprons.

Of course, leave it to Jacob to immediately go and do something he wasn't supposed to, and had started seeing Eli in his senior year of high-school. Eli had seemed pretty normal, considering his family name. Bit slow maybe, but harmless.

Lily had still thought her brother crazy to take up with a Wilkerson. That same year Mama Wilkerson died, and there were whispers in town that one of her sons had chopped her up with an axe. Maybe even _eaten _her. Who knew what went on at that isolated farm, and Lily hadn't been able to look at Eli the same way.

At least back then, society was there to hold the Wilkersons in check. Now…well now, anything went. And Lily couldn't help but remember all those childhood horror stories and wonder if there was truth in them after all.

"You…you think they had something to do with Maya, too?" she asked.

Marcus' eyes darkened. "Yes."

He didn't say anything else. Lily bit her lip, dropping her gaze to her shoes as tears threatened to spill again. She wasn't stupid; she understood what the women had been talking about in lowered voices when Maya was out of earshot. They thought one of the Wilkersons, Mickey in particular, had been threatening Maya. Maybe even hurting her.

Lily wouldn't put it past them. Hilda had even uttered the word _rape_, and that word alone had haunted Lily for nights. The thought of Maya out there alone, preyed on by…by _monsters _like the Wilkersons…

It made Lily want revenge. She didn't know if it was true, but if it was, and they had been hurting Maya, Lily would somehow make them pay. She may be just a sickly young teenager, but she could fire a gun just as well as anyone else. And _no-one_ threatened her family.

Gage appeared at the doorway.

"Marcus, Leah's spotted a car. It's headed this way."

Marcus straightened, becoming a leader once again. "This is it. Everyone get to a good point by a window. Keep your head down and ears open. If we're lucky they'll rush us from the front and we can bottleneck them."

Lily's hands were shaking as she followed Jacob back to the window. Her brother gave her a gentle shove.

"Go behind the desk, Lil. I don't want you getting hit by a stray bullet."

"I'm not sitting this out!" she snapped back, shutting down any protests Jacob may have given her. "I'm watching your back, so shut up and get over there."

Jacob knew better than to try and out-stubborn his little sister. Grumbling, he took his position, resting the barrel of his rifle between two of the boards. Lily settled beside him, peering out the window as best she could.

Through the front gate, she could see a red truck pull up at the barn. The two men she could see looked surprised, but they didn't reach for their guns, calling out to the driver.

The truck idled. Lily couldn't see the driver, but she recognized the hat that emerged from the passenger side.

"Doc!" she gasped. "Oh Jacob, he came and now he's going to-"

Jacob shushed her. Lily fell silent, watching as Doc spoke to the men outside. They answered in kind, looking relaxed. Doc nodded, gesturing to the driver. The door opened, and out climbed no other than Mickey Wilkerson.

Jacob swore. "Dammit, guess Marcus was right. Those assholes _are _working for the Wilkersons."

Mickey shut the truck door, ignoring the two men as Doc continued talking. He circled round the back of the truck, and Lily watched as he pulled out his rifle, checking the barrel and chamber. He patted something Lily couldn't see, but her attention was fully on the gun. Jacob had told her what damage it could do, and Lily's heart beat that bit faster at the thought of it trained on _them._

Mickey sighted down the barrel as if making sure it was still good. One of the men called out something to him and Mickey turned, rifle still up.

The man was smiling, walking forward and gesturing as if he wanted to have a look at the gun. Mickey finally spoke, but there was nothing friendly about his expression. The man said something else, and Lily saw Doc duck down back into the truck.

And then Mickey shot the man clean through the chest.


	12. Chapter 12

**Warnings: Blood and gore, death and torture via dog this chapter. (Seriously, wat brain. Torture via dog? Eh whatever). So, dog attack/biting. Just in case that's a trigger for anyone.**

* * *

Maya stared at the corpse in the corner of the room.

Flies still buzzed around it, their fat shiny bodies plump as they busily worked, the air humming with their movements. Maya sat with her back against the wall, an open window just above her head and tried not to breathe too deeply. Outside, she could hear the hoard still moving through, a big one of at least a few fifty zombs. They shuffled down the road, groaning and grunting, their stench almost as bad as the stench currently in the room.

She had painfully made her way down the dirt track to the main road, but had found the way up to the farmhouse blocked by the same hoard. She'd had no choice but to head to the industrial estate, hoping against hope no more ferals would appear, and that somehow, the old enclave that used to live there had left supplies.

She was lucky in that no ferals tried to rip her apart. Unlucky in that whatever the enclave had once had, was gone.

In the end all Maya could find were bodies, and now she was forced to hunker down with them, hidden away in the small room on the second floor as she waited for the hoard to pass. She wasn't even sure she _would _be able to walk back, her feet were cut to ribbons, and even just making her way here had been hard, taking her twice as long as it would have normally.

Her arms and shoulder throbbed, and when she pressed a hand to her cheek, her skin felt too warm and clammy. She was going to get an infection at this rate. What she wouldn't give for some clean water, peroxide and bandages.

Maya shifted uncomfortably. In only her shorts and now shredded shirt, she was freezing. She had briefly thought about taking strips from her shirt to bind her arms, but needed what little warmth it could offer, and didn't relish the thought of walking around in a dingy bra. And god knew what sort of gunk the feral had coughed on her; she'd probably do more damage wrapping it around her wounds.

She glanced back towards the body. Its clothes hung in wet tattered ribbons, rank with decaying juices, and useless to her. Sadly, she recognized the coat and hair. Becca, the girl with the past Maya had once investigated. Maya had liked her well enough, and felt a pang of sadness that the young woman hadn't made it. Beside her stretched the bodies of the rest of the group, Maya recognized Quentin, the boyfriend, as well as a few others. Seemed the group had been forced up here into a final stand. Maybe by the same feral who had dragged Maya here.

She darkly wished she could kill the bastard all over again.

Her stomach rumbled, and Maya leaned back against the wood, closing her eyes. She hadn't heard any cars to signal her own group coming to the rescue, and the shape she was in didn't bode well for her chances either. She had checked the bodies for a weapon, but came up dry. She had found a broken two by four by the cracked bed, but she barely had the strength to carry it, let alone wield it. Whatever strength she had summoned to dispatch the feral was long gone, and Maya felt weak as a newborn.

"Things are looking grim, kid," she directed towards her belly, keeping her voice low. The hoard just wouldn't move on. Maya had been trapped for hours, and every minute she wasted here she felt her energy slipping away with it.

She risked a glance out the window. Finally it was the back of the hoard coming through, the slowest of the zombs. A good dozen though, too many to consider trying to slip by. Maya slumped back down dejectedly.

All she could do now was conserve what little strength she had and hope she had enough to get her home. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, scraping along the roof of her mouth, and to get her mind off of her hunger and thirst, Maya tried counting the flies.

It didn't help. They seemed to taunt her, gleefully filling their bellies with putrid meat and buzzing by her face. Maya didn't bother swatting at them, concentrating on keeping still and quiet.

She must have fallen asleep for a while, because she jolted back into consciousness as a car engine cut through her uneasy thoughts.

Disorientated, she hauled herself up to the window, peering outside, blinking. The zombs were agitated outside, their moaning rising in volume. But above it all, was the unmistakeable sound of a car.

Heart pounding, Maya struggled to her feet, swaying precariously. Her shoulder throbbed in agony, and she hissed, grabbing for it without thinking.

Pain lanced along her scratched forearms as the movements stretched the swollen flesh around her cuts. Maya bit down on her lip to stop from crying out, squeezing her eyes shut as she waited for the pain to pass. She breathed in through her nose, but immediately regretted it as the sickly stench of decay seeped into her lungs.

Her stomach threatened rebellion, but she had little in it to begin with, a small mercy. When she was sure she wasn't going to pass out, Maya slowly and carefully moved towards the door. Pain shuddered up her legs with every step, her cut feet leaving bloody footprints on the wooden floor. Maya just gritted her teeth and somehow pushed herself on. The car was coming closer, and she needed to get down and outside if she was to have any chance of them noticing her.

She stepped over the bodies, bracing her hand on the wall so she wouldn't fall. Boy was she going to have a thing or two to say to Marcus. So he called this a rescue? He was a few _hours_ overdue.

The stairs seemed to yawn in front of her, a steep decline that could mean a broken neck if she wasn't careful. Maya went as quickly as her injured feet would allow, keeping her hand on the wall as her head spun with every step.

At least it was light out now, the sun beginning to reach its peak. When Maya had made her way to the building she had barely been able to see in the dim glow of the moon. She hadn't been able to pick a safe path across the floor littered with glass, and had ended up doing herself even more damage. Now in the light of day she could pick her way through it, but it was of small comfort.

The front windows of the building had been blasted in, covering the floor in tiny shards of glass that were next to impossible to avoid. Maya made a note to investigate this place when she was able. It didn't look like a typical zomb attack, and might be worth checking out.

As was the fact that a feral had tried to run off with her in the first place. Since when did they carry people off?

Maya struggled out the door, leaning heavily on the wood wincing in the bright light outside. She could hear the car better now, maybe a truck by the sounds of it, bearing down on her location. A few zombs had raised their heads at her movement, but seemed more interested in the increasingly loud engine.

Hobbling, Maya slowly made her way towards the road. Squinting, she could make out a cloud of dust, the car in the distance mowing down the very hoard Maya had been waiting on. For the first time since the feral grabbed her, Maya smiled.

"Marcus you crazy son-of-a-bitch," she said out-loud, voice cracking slightly. "You'll never wash them out of the grill now."

Undaunted, the truck barreled forward. She could see it better now, the metal glinting in the sun, and she frowned.

Did they have a black truck? Maya's was red, and the only other truck she knew of that they used was a beat up old blue Ford.

Well, people were people. And people were better than zombs.

Maya waved her arms in what she hoped was a not-zombie like manner. She didn't look much better than the corpses beginning to amble towards her, but she'd never seen one wave before, so hopefully it would grab their attention.

It seemed to; the truck was slowing as it barreled towards the industrial estate, swerving occasionally to hit a zomb. A body leaned out the window, a rifle in one hand, and automatically Maya ducked, her body protesting.

The stranger took out a zomb that had come too close, picking others off in quick succession. Maya was too busy trying not to puke all over the ground, swallowing down her dry heaves at the waves of pain that seemed to come at her from every body part she had.

By the time she had gathered herself enough to raise her head, the truck had come to a stop, doors opening. Two men stepped out, unfamiliar to her.

The one who looked like a throwback from a Western movie adjusted his belt, grinning as his eyes narrowed on Maya's crouched form.

"Well look what we got 'ere. You 'aint lookin' so good there little darlin'."

His friend spat, sucking his tooth thoughtfully.

"Good thing we came along. Wouldn't want somethin' _bad _to happen to ya."

And just like that, Maya knew she was in even more trouble.

* * *

Despite what the folks around town used to say, Mickey had never killed anyone. Beat a man senseless once, sure, but actual, all out murder? Never.

Even when the zombs came, and Mickey found himself shooting people-shaped targets for the first time. He hadn't killed a _human_. Had been bad enough recognizing dead faces before he blew them to pieces. The thought of putting down someone living was…well, unthinkable.

Until it wasn't.

Mickey didn't recognize the man he murdered. Made it easier, honestly. As the stranger's chest exploded in a wet splatter of red, Mickey went down onto one knee, getting a more solid sight on the second, taking the man down as he turned and tried to warn the others. Might be once he'd have felt cowardly shooting someone in the back, but he couldn't afford to let the man live. Maya's life depended on them dying.

So by God, they would die.

Behind him, he heard Doc fire, and a body fell from the top of the barn. Three down.

The dog was barking, and with a bellow, Mickey yelled to Doc to release her. She was an older bitch; past her breeding years which was partly the reason the old crazy bastard in the woods had bartered her. But she was trained good, and she came to Mickey's side instantly, teeth flashing against her black gums as she snapped and snarled at the men now scrambling out of the barn.

"Girl, dræbe!" Mickey shouted, reloading. "Dræbe!"

She went, in a streak of brown. She brought one down quickly, jaw clamped around the man's calf. Doc's rifle boomed, and another man died as he tried to duck behind the barn.

_Like fish in a fucking barrel._

Grimly, Mickey brought his rifle back up, sighting at the ones who were trying to flee into the field. On the ground the dog had changed her bite, going for the man's throat instead. He squealed, once, then there were only four left.

Mickey kneecapped the closest, the man collapsing. He went down with a scream, and obediently the dog left her now still corpse, zeroing in on the thrashing prey, ignoring his flailing arms. Hadn't even gotten his gun out. Mickey had had his doubts at Fred's promises, but it seemed the old man had been training his dogs to be killing machines at the end of the world. Useful as hell, but also fucking terrifying.

_Poor bastard._

Mickey tuned out the wet gurgles and the dog's growling, concentrating on getting the fleeing ones back in his sights.

Boom, and then there were only two.

Mickey got to his feet, moving forward at an unhurried pace. They could run as fast as they liked, they weren't going to leave the field alive. Finished, the dog circled back to Mickey, sticking close as she was trained to do. Her weight against his legs was reassuring, and Mickey's finger twitched on the trigger.

Doc beat him to it, the doctor appearing beside him, face unreadable as he took another life. Both men had been prepared for this, had talked about it all the way down to the farmhouse. Doc had explained everything he heard when Lily radioed in, about Maya, the group of strangers, though he hadn't dared radio Lily back in case there were others listening in.

Mickey knew this game. He knew what type of men staked out groups, what type of men would stake out _this_ group. Weren't any of his or Job's. Weren't friends of Mayas. They were enemies, and they were stopping him from finding Maya. Might even have something to do with it. There could be no survivors.

Mickey understood that, and made his peace with it quick. He had expected Doc to dig his heels in, to protest, lecture on about how he was meant to preserve life, not take it, but the old doctor hadn't. Seemed Maya was more important to him than a few strangers too.

Mickey watched the man trying to run, tripping over his own feet several times in his headlong flight. He dropped the rifle.

"I'm thinkin' we question that one," he said. Doc looked at him incredulously.

"Thought you said no survivors."

"Who says I"ll let him live after?" Mickey glanced down at the panting dog at his feet. "Girl, hente. _Hente._"

She understood, and shot off like an arrow, disappearing from view into the tall grass and tail held high. The list of commands Fred had given Mickey was safely stowed in his shirt pocket, along with pronunciations. Apparently he was doing alright so far.

Doc tapped his rifle against his thigh. "I swear to God, that dog's smarter than anythin' I've seen. Usin' a different language too."

Mickey watched the man reach a fence, almost getting over it before the dog hit him, latching onto his leg. As he fell backwards, she went for his arms, stopping him from getting any weapons. Mickey slung his rifle back over his shoulder, stepping over the downed bodies as he moved towards the wrestling duo.

"Folks used to say ol' Fred trained every dog in a different tongue. Used to do some sort of competin', before he went all crazy and decided to live up in the woods. Heard he trained up police dogs too. Fuck knows, but damn, she knows what she's doin'."

Doc glanced at the carnage around them. "I'll make sure these poor bastards are all properly dead. Don't want any of them coming back."

"You do that, Doc." Mickey could see movement from the farmhouse as the others began to come out. "You fill them in yeah? I'll be back in a tic."

The field was luckily zomb-free as Mickey strolled through. As he neared he could hear the man whimpering, the dog growling.

He nearly laughed as he kicked away the grass. The man was on his belly, curled up like a possum to protect his vulnerable front. The bitch had the back of his neck in her jaws, giving him a little shake now and then whenever he cringed. She kept her eyes on Mickey's face though, waiting for his command.

"Komme," he motioned her away with a hand and she released the man immediately, trotting back to Mickey's side.

"Well, look at what the dog dragged in," Mickey drawled, kicking the man in the side. "Looks like trash to me."

The man uncurled, raising his head. His face was bloody, his shirt torn and arms bleeding heavily.

"_Fuck _you, Wilkerson!" he yelled, though his voice shook. "The hell you think you're doin'? We 'aint got no quarrel with you and yours."

Mickey snorted, aiming another kick at the man's side. "That so? That group back there happens to be one o' mine. And you're gonna tell me just what the fuck you were doin', who you work for, and where Maya Torres is."

The man quivered. "We were just watchin'. 'Aint hurt nobody, and you…fuck, you killed them all didn't you? Crazy bastard."

Mickey sighed, sinking down on one knee. Beside him, the dog growled warningly and the man cringed.

"Why were you watchin'? Who put you up to it?"

The stranger avoided his eyes. "No-one. We just thought it looked like ripe pickin's. We been on the road for a month now, just wanted somewhere to rest."

He yelped as Mickey grabbed him by the throat, hauling him forward, their faces only inches apart.

"You think I'm stupid?" Mickey said dangerously. "Your boys knew who I was. Greeted me like a fuckin' friend. You 'aint one of mine. You 'aint one of Jobs. You're someone elses, and someone who knows what a Wilkerson looks like."

The man stayed silent. Mickey rolled his eyes, releasing him. "Alright. We'll do this the hard way then."

He got to his feet, and before the man could react, kicked him onto his back.

"Wh…what are you-"

Mickey ignored him, stomping down on the man's shoulder with a boot. He grabbed the arm, and pulled, wrenching the arm up and back with all his strength.

The grass vibrated around them as the man screamed, and Mickey let go, the arm flopping back onto the grass, dislocated. He tried to claw at Mickey with his other, but Mickey dislocated that one too with alarming efficiency.

"You fuckin' fuck!" the man bellowed, flopping onto his back and writhing. "You piece of shi-"

"Girl," Mickey said, and the dog at his side looked up at him. "Bide."

The man's screaming rose in pitch as the dog lunged, sinking her fangs into the meat of his thigh. He jerked helplessly, unable to bat her away. Mickey watched dispassionately.

"It doesn't have to be this way," he managed to say over the screaming. "Just tell me what I want to know, and she stops."

The man was crying, tears streaming down his dirty face. The dog savaged at his thighs, tearing away bloody chunks unflinchingly.

"I'll talk!" he screamed. "I'll talk, _please, oh JESUS!"_

Mickey took his time fishing out the command list from his pocket, finding the right one.

"Slukket," Mickey barked, and the dog released, backing away. Triumphant, Mickey tucked the list away again, crossing his arms, and glaring down at the heavily bleeding man. "Talk. Who do you work for?"

He whimpered. "Is…Isaiah."

The name didn't mean anything to Mickey. Probably someone Job dealt with.

"Why were you watchin' that group?"

The dog growled, and the man curled up on himself. "Bo…Boss told us to. Said…said there were women to be had."

He groaned. "We…we were supposed to start bleedin' 'em. Get 'em weak and scared so we could hit later."

Fuck. A gang had Maya's group in its sights. Mickey lifted his foot, pressing down on the man's torn up thigh, grinding the sole of his boot into the bloody flesh.

"How many of ya?"

The man's howl had the dog stiffening, but she didn't move. Mickey pressed harder.

"I dunno! A…a couple dozen maybe. Swear to God! Please…please don't hurt me no more."

Mickey frowned. A large group. If this Isaiah was dealing with Job, then he wouldn't attack anyone in Wilkerson territory without permission.

Which meant Mickey's brother had something to do with this. _Godammit._

Filled with rage, Mickey stamped down, hard. The man's screech rivaled a screamer.

"Where's Maya?"

"_I don't know!_" The man was all out sobbing now, chest heaving, snot oozing from his nose. "Please, sweet Jesus, I don't know no Maya. We just waited 'till the zomb distracted 'em then took up position. I swear, that's it!"

Mickey, drew back, surprised. "You knew the feral was gonna attack."

The man looked up at him with wet, red-rimmed eyes. "Yeah. Yeah we knew. Isaiah, he's into some fucked up shit, man. I…I dunno much, but I know he trains some. Fuck knows how, but he sics 'em on groups to split 'em up. Make it easier to attack."

Mickey stared down at his prisoner. "You mean he trains _zombs_? Like attack dogs?"

The man groaned, head thudding against the earth. "I've said too much man, Isaiah will kill me. Just…just let me go. I won't say nothin' to no-one."

Mickey frowned, foot hovering in threat. The man cringed. "Was it supposed to take someone?"

"No! It…it was supposed to get inside, kill some. Make it easy for us to go in. But…but somethin' happened. There were still too many of 'em to take on, so we waited. We waited and…and…Jesus you _killed them._"

Fuck. Things were getting more complicated by the second.

"Please…please I've told you. Let…let me live."

Mickey shook his head. "That was never on the cards. You fucks threatened one o' mine, and you're gonna have to pay in blood."

The man's eyes were almost resigned as he looked helplessly up at Mickey. "Then…then make it quick at least. Give me a fuckin' bullet to the braincase, I'm beggin' ya."

"I almost feel bad," Mickey sighed, "But I can't do that either. I 'aint wastin' good bullets on fucks like you."

He glanced over at the dog. She wagged her tail expectantly. For a second, Mickey balked, but the thought of Maya out there, injured, alone..._pregnant..._ it was enough to steel his resolve. These assholes had attacked his family, there would be no mercy for them. Not from him.

Mickey's gaze hardened. "Girl-"

"No!" the man was begging now, begging and blubbering like a child. Like that would save him. "No, please! God have mercy! Wilkerson, have mercy, please God I-"

"Dræbe."

And like the highly trained canine she was, she did.


	13. Chapter 13

**Warnings: Mentions of rape/non-con, swearing, gore, sexism.**

* * *

"What the _fuck,_ Doc?"

Doc valiantly tried to ignore what was happening behind him, but the screams coming from the field were beginning to get louder. He felt a hundred years old, weight pushing down on his shoulders like an invisible demon. The sun was beating down on him, sweat trickling down his back as he bore the heavy stares of the group in front of him.

Marcus looked like a thundercloud, vibrating with tension. Some of the others were already beginning to pull the bodies of the slain men into a pile behind the barn to be burned later. The Ritter kids stuck close, Lily looking pale.

Doc scrubbed absentmindedly at a red fleck on his shirt. _Blood, _he thought grimly. _Call it what it is, old man, you're well acquainted with it._ "We took care o' the problem."

Marcus snorted. "I don't even want to know why you seemed so comfortable _killing people._ Jesus, Doc. Who knows what you just kicked off?"

Deliliah straightened nearby, wiping a hand across her forehead as she took a break from hauling one of the dead men. She was an attractive woman, somewhere in her fourties and no stranger to hard work by the look of her arms. "Oh don't be naïve, Marcus. These weren't friendlies. Doc did us a favor and it's about time we started bucking down and preparing for shit like this. We could have taken them on instead of cowering like little old ladies."

Jacob shook his head stubbornly. "Murder is murder. I won't kill a human being."

His brown hair was getting long, curling into his eyes. Doc resisted the urge to reach over and ruffle it fondly like he had when the boy was young. Jacob was so like his daddy. Probably the reason why the two had fought like cats and dogs. Men like Thomas Ritter were honorable, doing the right thing and living by strict morals. It may have been commendable once, but now it was a weakness. Being honorable just meant you couldn't make the tough calls when they needed to be made, that you sacrificed too much for too little gain.

Thomas Ritter paid the ultimate price. He should have been at home, defending his family, but instead he had chased a fool's dream of salvation. It cost him dear.

Doc refused to do the same. He was a doctor, yes, and believed in preserving life where he could, but he wouldn't defend those who didn't believe the same. Men who killed and preyed on the living were no better than the dead in his eyes, and he would judge them just as harshly.

Maybe that made him a hypocrite. After all, he had a good idea of what Job got up to out in the fields, left to his own devices. He didn't believe Job was bad _truly, _just…a consequence of circumstance.

_Whatever helps you sleep at night, old man._

Doc squared his shoulders, steeling his resolve. "'Aint such a thing when you're defendin' your own, boy. The world is black n' white now. Do unto others before they do unto you." He winced as the screaming behind him suddenly cut off, the eerie silence almost worse. "And God help me for it."

Marcus glared over Doc's shoulder, gesturing. "Fine, Rambo Doc I can deal with, but _him?_"

Doc wasn't a stranger to the Wilkersons. Doc had grown up in this little town, taking over the family business when he came of age from his own daddy. He had dealt with the Wilkersons since they drew their first breath, and had been there when some of them had taken their last. They were men like any other, no better or worse than his other patients. Easier to deal with, in a way. There was no beating around the bush with a Wilkerson, they told it like it was. Blunt, straight to the point. Something Doc respected.

When the dead decided to come back to life, Doc knew where he was headed.

Sometimes he asked himself why. Late at night when the men got rowdy and the women started crying, Doc would sit out on the porch at the old Barrett house and wonder why on God's green earth he had ever decided to stick with men like that. He asked himself every morning as he patched up black eyes and broken jaws, asked himself again as he tried not to notice how he was greeted with flinches and wary looks by his patients whenever he ventured away from the house.

But the answer was always simple: survival. Doc wanted to live. And whatever else the Wilkersons were, at their core they were survivors, and Doc wasn't too proud to admit that he was still breathing thanks to them.

Doc wasn't a young man anymore. He knew that. The only usefulness about him was his knowledge, what with his aim having gotten worse over the years with his sight. He could fire a gun half decent, but who couldn't out in the country? Doc didn't hold any illusions; he was useful to the Wilkersons, so it benefited them to keep him alive.

And that suited Doc just fine.

Mickey came towards the group of them, face shuttered of any emotion. At his side trotted the dog, tongue lolling in her red-stained mouth. She was a heeler-shepherd mix of some sort; Doc knew that much about dogs at least, with a mottled grey and brown coat. The man they had seen to barter her had been older than Doc, stooped and white haired, crouching in his shack in the middle of the woods. Doc had been skeptic, but Mickey knew what he was doing as he took the man aside to talk in hushed voices.

Dogs had been all over the property, but not one barked at him. They had watched Doc with too intelligent eyes, and Doc had very carefully not investigated the stink of decay coming from a ditch along the side of the property. The less Doc knew, the better off he was, and he would just follow Mickey's lead.

Even if it meant killing. Doc might not believe in much of anything anymore, but he truly believed that Maya was important. The new life in her belly _meant _something, a hope of a future. It was worth saving, and worth killing for.

Maybe even worth dying for. An old man for a young mother and child? A fair trade. An easy trade really.

Doc had no children of his own. No family. He had had a wife once, but she was long dead, and he was happy for it. Her heart would break seeing him like this. Seeing what the world had become. No, Doc had very little now, and even less to lose.

Not like Mickey. Doc had seen it in the man's eyes when he was told Maya was missing. Doc understood that look, had felt it once; felt the world crumbling beneath his feet in the wake of only a few words.

He was glad, in a twisted way. It meant Mickey actually cared about Maya, was scared of losing her. Maya deserved someone who cared for her and Mickey…Mickey deserved something _good_.

Oblivious to Doc's musings, Mickey wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. Blood splattered up his forearm and along one thigh, but Doc felt only a faint sense of unease at the sight, not disgust like he once might have.

This world had changed him.

Lily shifted closer to her brother, both trying to hide behind Marcus. Deliliah seemed the least intimidated, crossing her arms as she stared Mickey down.

"You uh…you got a little something there," she said. "You know…all over you."

Mickey ignored her.

"They were in on it," he said instead, everyone flinching collectively at his low growl. "Bastards were countin' on the feral to get in and kill a few. Weren't expectin' it to take off with someone."

"And why the hell do you care?" Marcus spat, taking an aggressive step forward. "For all we know those men worked for you and you're just cleaning up loose ends."

Doc held up a placating hand. The tension in Mickey was growing steadily by the second, and the last thing they all needed was a brawl breaking out with Marcus. Already time was short.

"We're all on the same side 'ere. Mickey and I heard Lily's broadcast and came to help."

He gestured to the panting dog. "As long as you've got somethin' o' Maya's, we should be able to track her down."

"Seriously?" Jacob peered out from around Marcus' broad back. "Cujo there? It's more likely to rip Maya to shreds than find her!"

As if sensing she was being talked about, the dog sneezed, shaking her head as she sank onto her haunches. Mickey stood as still as stone beside her.

Doc sighed. "There really 'aint time to argue. She's a tracker, and we're here to track. We should move quick 'fore the trail gets cold-"

"Why?" Lily piped up suddenly, brave in the presence of others. "Why are you here to help? Doc I can understand but…_you?_"

All eyes turned on Mickey. There were a variety of emotions flickering across the faces that Doc could see. Suspicion, anger…fear. He wondered what they knew about Mickey and Maya, if anything. Judging by the dark storm brewing in Marcus' eyes, it wasn't anything good at least.

"Why would a _Wilkerson_ want to help us?" Marcus spat. "Haven't you done enough?"

Mickey leaned down to scratch the dog behind her ear. She looked up at her new master adoringly. "If you mean by savin' your asses, then yeah. I have. But I 'aint gotta explain s_hit _to ya. Bring Doc somethin' of Mayas' and we can git."

Deliliah dropped her arms, shooting a look at Marcus. "Well…she had been wearing a blanket when she was taken. It…it got left behind. Would that work?"

"Liah!" Marcus hissed, reaching out to grab at her arm as she moved towards the house. Deliliah shook him off with a stern curse.

"Doc's right, Marcus, Maya is out there and we've wasted enough time. If that dog can track her down then I say let them have whatever they want."

She glanced towards Mickey with a look Doc couldn't read. "And we'll deal with…_whatever_, afterwards."

Marcus looked torn. Finally he seemed to reach some sort of compromise with himself and nodded, letting Deliliah past.

"Fine. But I'm coming with you," he said, pointing towards the two of them, and Doc knew better than to try and convince him otherwise. He turned and gestured over one of the men, Gage Doc thought he was called, and the two men conversed in hushed tones.

Lily fidgeted. It was a habit the girl had always had, constantly picking and pulling at things with her fingers. "You'll bring her back, right?"

Doc looked at her sadly. "We'll try, Lil. You have my word on that."

Jacob pulled his sister into a hug, draping his arm around her shoulders. "Maya'll be fine. She's one tough cookie."

_It's not her I'm truly worried for, _Doc thought helplessly. _But the babe._

Mickey said nothing, turning away from the group and whistling for the dog to follow. The others visibly relaxed as he moved away, resuming their work in cleaning up the bodies. Two of the women carried a corpse between them, wrinkling their noses as they hauled it towards the barn. Doc had to admit, he much preferred this group to others he had seen. Everyone pulled their weight here, regardless of background or gender. It was the only group he knew of where the women were just as fierce and opinionated as the men, not treated as things to be bartered with. It was the way things _should _be.

And Maya had been one of the ones to make it that way. She was needed here.

Deliliah emerged from the house, a rough wool bundle in her hands. Doc felt his stomach churn as he noticed the bloodstains.

"Here. It's the best we can do, all her other clothes have been washed. I…" she looked down at the sad bundle, blinking. She took a deep breath, handing it to Doc.

"Find her. Please, Doc."

Doc tilted his hat to her, taking the bundle carefully.

He would, one way or another. No matter what, he wouldn't return empty handed.

* * *

When Maya had made the decision long ago to join the army, she had once viewed her gender as a weakness. Being a woman made her a target, her softer curves and breasts making her someone less worthy to hold a gun for her country. And god damn it, but she had _believed them. _Maya liked looking good. She liked leafing through trashy magazines about people getting abducted by aliens or marrying their second cousin and/or father. She also liked hunting and firing guns. But in the army she was defined by a rigid set of archaic sex rolls, and she had taken all of their whistles and butt slaps like some sort of goddamn compliment, accepting the lighter administration jobs her CO gave her because, in his words, _little ladies didn't belong in the field_. And he actually thought he was doing her favor.

It had taken a grizzled old drill instructor to give it to her straight, and to her shame, Maya couldn't remember the woman's name. Her grey hair had always been slicked into a stern bun, her eyes fierce in her sun-wrinkled face.

_Be who you are, Torres, _she had said, puffing on a cigarette like it was her last. _Whatever you do, people will think whatever they damn well please. And that's on them. It don't mean __**shit **__'bout who you are, or what you do. _Maya remembered how the woman had ground the smoking stub under her boot, had marveled if she too one day might reach this woman's surety of spirit, or if just dealing with a lifetime of shit made someone strong.

_You want to be a soldier, Torres? A real, honest-to-God soldier? _The woman had asked, straightening her uniform with practiced ease.

Maya had nodded. _Yes, Ma'am. More than anything._

_What do you think a soldier is all about, Torres? Duty? Honor?_

_Sacrifice, _Maya had said immediately, thinking of her broken family, her strained relationship with her mother and friends, all because she chose a different life to theirs. _It's about sacrifice. _

The woman had smiled then, her usually stern face crinkling into something more welcoming.

_Sacrifice. We sacrifice ourselves on enemy blades and bullets to protect others. We sacrifice our lives in all senses of the word- our relationships, family, and ultimately for some, the breath in our lungs and the beat of our hearts._

She had leaned in then, close enough that Maya could smell the nicotine on her breath.

_But you know what we __**never **__sacrifice? The one thing that not even the most loyal soldier would ever give his or her country?_

Maya had shaken her head. The woman had reached out to tap Maya's forehead with a bony finger.

_You. If you wanna get religious, your soul or whatever shit you fancy. Soldiers aren't machines, Torres. We're human. We all bleed the same red. Don't matter what you got between your legs, only what's between your ears._

She had straightened then, all smiling gone. _Don't you ever sacrifice that. If you wanna be a soldier, a good one, then you gotta know who you are. Without a doubt. And don't you compromise that for nobody._

The next time her CO had tried to put Maya on some stupid job, she had stood up for herself, demanded something better. The next time one of her squad mates slapped her ass, she cuffed him round the head and gave him an earful. And to her surprise, they started taking her more seriously. Because Maya was taking _herself_ seriously.

She was a woman. She was a soldier. She was Maya Torres, and the two idiots looming over her were in for a rude awakening. She was wounded, yes, probably looked half-dead, but she was _more _than what they thought of her.

And Maya had a good idea of what they were thinking.

The cowboy had slid his belt free and wrapped it around Maya's wrists, tying them together. Maya didn't fight it, keeping her wrists tense and pulled apart just enough to leave some room to start working free. She sat beside their truck, at least sitting in the shade, back against the warm metal.

The other had muttered something into a radio inside the car, and it was _that _particular thing that had gotten Maya's attention. There must be a group of them, and Maya had no urge to meet the others. If she could get free, get a hold of that radio, maybe she could get Marcus or Mickey on the line.

Cowboy scratched the sagging belly barely concealed by his stained wife-beater. Whoever this group was, they certainly weren't lacking for food.

"She 'aint half bad," he said, like they were discussing a particularly nice piece of livestock. Maya bared her teeth for good measure. "Clean 'er up and I'd do 'er."

His friend snorted.

"Don't pretend you got standards, you horny fuck. If it weren't for the boss, you'd be balls deep already."

Cowboy smirked, his eyes crawling along Maya's dirty arms towards her chest. "Damn right."

Maya felt like she might be sick again. She ignored the feeling, keeping her eyes on the two men. She needed a plan, and she needed it fast.

The radio crackled, and the other listened to the soft tones. Maya couldn't make out the words.

Cowboy took a step towards her, and Maya stiffened, pulling her knees up to her chest to protect her belly. So far they hadn't touched her beyond tying her up, but a well-placed kick in her condition would be disastrous.

"Twitchy 'aint ya?"

Maya almost laughed.

"Can't imagine why," she said. "Two nice men like yourselves coming out of nowhere, tying me up, summoning others and talking about raping me. I feel so safe right now."

Cowboy frowned as if confused.

"Looks like we got a prissy one," he said to his friend. "Whatsa matter baby girl, this whole end o' the world shit not good enough for ya? Daddy can't just make it go away for ya huh?"

Maya did laugh then, whole body laughs with her head thrown back.

"Oh sweet Jesus," she finally gasped, once she got her aching body back under control. "I almost feel sorry for you stupid fucks. Almost."

Cowboy was definitely angry now, his greasy hair practically bristling on his patchy scalp.

"Why you-"

His friend stopped him, grabbing his arm as Cowboy stomped towards her.

"Easy now, Lyle. We gotta wait for the boss."

A name. Perfect.

Maya chuckled, head lolling against the truck. "Does it make you feel powerful, _Lyle_? Seeing a stuck up little cow like me all tied up?"

The man's face was growing red, muscles bunching in his arms. His friend looked worried.

"I bet women wouldn't give you the time of day before all this," Maya snorted. "Hell, look at you. Now you can just take it. Only thing a guy like you can do really. So sad."

"Shut up!" Lyle bellowed, gut wobbling. "You shut your goddamn mouth you whore-"

"Original," Maya laughed, infuriating him further. "Call a woman a whore because she won't fuck you. C'mon Lyle, let's see if you have the whole package. A power-hungry, woman hating rapist at the end of the world is so cliché so let's add to it. I'm thinking the heat you're packing in those jeans is on the small side too, yes?"

"_You bitch!"_

"Lyle!" His friend was tugging on him, trying to wrestle him under control. "The boss said-"

"_Fuck_ the boss!" Lyle bellowed, and Maya tugged on her bonds for the final time. "I'm gonna show this bitch some goddamn manners!"

He barreled towards her like a bull, full of rage.

It was almost too easy.

Even in her weak state, Maya was still a trained soldier. She slid her wrists free of the belt, rolling to the side as Lyle collided into the side of the truck, unable to stop his head-long charge. Coiling the belt around her knuckles so the buckle was aimed outwards, Maya pushed her strength into a jab at Lyle's knee, the metal gouging into bone and forcing the knee backwards.

With a yell he went down awkwardly onto his back, and Maya wasted no time, fingers going to the man's ankle.

She had spotted it when he had been strutting around like a chubby peacock, the tell-tale bulge of a poorly concealed knife. It wasn't as large as she was hoping, only slightly larger than a good pocket knife, but it would do.

It slid free easily, and Maya scuttled onto Lyle's chest, pinning his arms with her thighs as she jammed the blade up against his throat. Her scraped knees burned, her arms throbbing but the knife was steady in her hand.

"Move and I kill your friend," she hissed at the other man who had only just reacted, reaching inside the car.

He froze, watching her with wide eyes.

Beneath the knife, Lyle's throat gulped.

"Zeke, shoot her!" he managed in a strangled murmur. "What are you waitin' for?"

Zeke sighed unhappily, but he moved, pulling away from the car. In his hand was a revolver. "Lyle man, I'm sorry. But she's more valuable than you. You know that."

Lyle writhed beneath her, Maya's thighs screaming as she struggled to keep him in place. "You piece of shit!" he howled, bucking. "Bitch you even-"

Maya made a split decision.

The knife sank into Lyle's throat easily, bright red blood spraying upwards. Maya had almost worried the blade wouldn't be long enough, but as she tugged the blade all the way through Lyle's carotid artery, it went smoothly, cutting deep.

He stared up at her in surprise, gurgling as blood burbling up through his lips. Maya watched him die dispassionately. Men like him didn't deserve pity.

Blood oozed over her hands, and Maya wiped it on Lyle's twitching body, glancing up at Zeke.

"Who did you call?" she asked.

Zeke swallowed. "The boss. He's on his way. You won't get far if you run."

Maya glanced down at herself. "No, I don't suppose I would."

She sat there for a moment, weighing up her options. Finally, she glanced back up.

"You can't shoot me." It was a statement more than a question, and her fears were confirmed when Zeke merely nodded miserably. Whoever this boss was, Zeke was willing to die by her hand rather than spoil her for him.

"You were supposed to be an easy pick-up," Zeke fired back, as if this was her fault. "You're half-dead by the looks of it. The fuck are you?"

_Not your victim, _Maya thought to herself.

"Your boss steal a lot of women?" she asked instead. "What, you guys roam the countryside picking up women to have your way with?"

Zeke shifted nervously. "'Aint like _that. _Boss says we gotta think long-term, y'know? Repopulate and shit. Gotta have women for that."

Maya breathed out. It was exactly what she had been fearing when she had seen the lights in the field. She got slowly to her feet, trying to ignore the sharp pains.

"This is Wilkerson territory. They won't take kindly to interlopers messing up their hunting grounds."

Zeke shrugged. "I don't know shit 'bout that. I'm just an errand boy."

Maya wiped the back of her hand holding the knife against her forehead. Lyle's blood smeared across her forehead but she didn't care.

"Well, errand boy, how would you like to die?"

Zeke held his hands up pleadingly. Maya only had eyes for the revolver.

"Look, it 'aint gotta be this way. You just…you settle down and I'll talk you up to the boss. Maybe he'll go easy on ya."

Maya could hear engines in the distance, growing louder. Zeke heard it too, and turned his head to look down the road for his friends.

Maya threw the knife. It wasn't a great throw, the blade embedding in his belly but it was enough to make him drop the gun in surprise, hands clutching at his stomach.

Despite the aches and pains, and how her head span with every quick movement, Maya somehow managed to grab the gun, gravel scraping into her palms and knees. She spun, revolver up.

Zeke stared down at her with mouth wide open. Maya flicked the safety.

"Tell me, Zeke," she said softly. "Just how many women have _you_ raped?"

He didn't have to tell her, she saw it in his eyes. Maya thought again on that drill sergeant's words. These men had sacrificed their souls, the very thing that made them _human_ and for what? For a brief moment of power they could hold over another human being?

They were no better than the monsters shambling in the fields. Worse, in that they had made a _choice _to be what they had become.

Disgusted, Maya pulled the trigger. Zeke's skull shattered, showering the concrete with hot shards of bone and brain. Maybe once, she would have spared him. But now she knew what these men were capable of, she couldn't let them live. If she did, they would find her group and do to them what they had done to countless others. She couldn't let that happen.

Maya took a deep breath, willing her heart to calm to a steady beat as the thrum of more nearing engines filled the air.

…..


End file.
